Ari Durst
by Mellie DeHiraeth
Summary: What would have happened if a concerned Gringotts employee found Harry as a child? What minor differences could lead to a different story? Will mostly work off of third year. Going slowly due to school issues.
1. Chapter 1

The Dursleys were, if you had asked anyone on Privet Drive, very, very normal. There was Mr Dursley, a whale of a man with a non-existent neck; his wife, Mrs Dursley, who reminded many of a horse; and Dudley Dursley, their son, who took very much after his father, and there wasn't much good to inherit.

But the Dursleys, as normal as they were, had a secret. Petunia Dursley, specifically, had a secret, and that secret was her sister, Lily, brought into the family by her step-father. Lily was quickly found to be a witch and enrolled in only the best of schools, while Petunia survived a childhood so completely average that it wasn't even worth mentioning. Petunia, for this reason, harbored negative feelings for her half-sister; the thought that they would ever want anything to do with Lily again was enough to get the Dursleys shuddering in disgust.

So when they found Harry on their doorstep, they were horrified. How could they be normal with such a child? They would be a laughingstock! Unfortunately, the had no choice. If they left the child to die, the wizarding world would be breaking down their doors, Petunia knew, and so she instead took up the child and worked with her family to make him into a normal, workable boy, who could at least do _something_ for their family.

* * *

 _July 31st, 1985._

Harry's birthday was today. He didn't know how he knew, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had never told him that; it merely was. He stretched out as much as he could in his cupboard and waited.

Today, as well, was the third time this week that Harry was left alone in the house. The Dursleys were in a good mood at the moment; Uncle Vernon had been doing well at Grunnings, so the family had taken a vacation for the weekend. Not that they hadn't been taking Dudley around places a lot recently either, but it was soothing for Harry, so he didn't complain.

He teased open the cupboard door - he'd been locked in with a sandwich and told to wait - by focusing very much on wanting to get out. It wasn't very hard; he desperately wanted out. How it worked he wasn't sure, but a faint glow emerged at his fingertips, and a few moments later the cupboard door swung open silently, letting Harry crawl out and stretch properly, and then leave the house to walk around.

He rattled the doorknob in frustration, but nothing worked, so he tried again with the glow. Thinking carefully, he repeated, in his head, that he wanted out. He wanted _out._ He. wanted. _OUT._

The door swung open willingly, and he stepped out into the open, letting it swing shut again behind him.

* * *

He walked for a long time, until finally, something caught his attention. He'd been passing by when a gasp went up in a nearby crowd, and he turned his head to look.

In among the crowd was a man who was holding up his wrist for a crow. The crow chirped proudly and nudged the man on the cheek, eliciting an amused giggle from the man in question.

Now Harry was interested. He walked over and watched, too, as the man directed the crow around the crowd and had it do dips and dives and twirls in the air.

How was the man getting the bird to do his will? It didn't make sense. Why was the bird listening? It could be free, fly in the air, have fun and eat what it wanted instead of working itself to exhaustion each day. Harry found it a mockery of what birds were supposed to be; a symbol of freedom.

He walked away. He couldn't watch any more; the bird wasn't doing that because it wanted to, and he didn't really think that was right.

* * *

Harry was alone in the park. He took a deep breath and stepped into the grass, a bit scared of it but nonetheless excited. He'd only ever touched the flowers in Petunia's garden; he'd never felt grass before.

It was springy and green. He loved it; it made him feel giddy inside. Almost as if he could fly...

He was suddenly reminded of the crow. It was a beautiful creature; it reminded him of freedom and flight, the air against your cheek. It was a wonderful thing, and he wondered if, like with the lock, he could will it to happen. Maybe, if he tried, he could fly.

He willed his body to do his bidding. He'd need feathers, surely; wasn't that unique to flying creatures? So he gave himself feathers, lots of feathers, and to his positive glee he found that they grew near instantly. He'd need to be smaller, too, smaller than he was... he'd need wings, wings instead of arms...

He looked at himself, and saw the grass was bigger, up to his chest. He hopped off of the ground and took wing, flapping hard, taking steady breaths to keep up, and he found himself rising, getting better...

* * *

Harry flew home.

* * *

When the Dursleys returned from their weekend trip, the family found the cupboard locked and Harry sleeping peacefully in it. Dudley punched him until he dashed off, and Petunia threw her coat at him, which he automatically placed on the rack.

"No, boy, on the top rack!" She seethed, turning on him. He found himself on his tippy-toes, but even then he couldn't reach; with a frown, he remembered how his willpower had gotten him through yesterday.

With focus, he willed the coat to leave his hands and hook itself on the top of the rack. Very, very slowly, it reached it, and through the blood in his one functioning eye he saw it fall onto the hook. A smile of satisfaction, and he was rushing to the kitchen, but it was too good to be true.

Uncle Dursley grabbed him and threw him.

"NO! WE WILL NOT TOLERATE... WEIRDNESS! IN! THIS! HOUSE!" He screeched, Petunia gasping lightly behind him. Dudley immediately began crying. Harry feared for his life.

There was a rush of pain in his side as the first punch was delivered to his ribs, and he heard a violent _crack_ go with it. Grabbing Harry, he pushed him into the cupboard, locked it, and wiped off his bloodied hands in disgust.

"He'll stay there a week," Uncle Dursley announced, "see how he likes that." And with that, he walked away, to wash his hands, Petunia quickly rushing to clean the blood off the floor.

Harry gasped for breath and willed himself to live.

* * *

A day later, he felt his body healing. He hadn't eaten at all, damn and blast his aunt and uncle, curse his cousin for what they did. He shakily got up and willed himself to open the lock, as quietly as he could.

There was a very quiet click, and Harry smiled for the first time in hours.

He willed himself into a small form. He was back to the crow by the time he finished; this way, he didn't need his battered legs to move.

Crow-Harry peered out the door into the midnight darkness, then flew out and landed in the kitchen. He looked around, saw some leftovers on the table, and gobbled them down. Now was no time to enjoy his food, or at least what food he could get.

* * *

 _July 31st, 1989._

Harry stretched at five in the morning, feeling pretty good about himself. He had healed nicely from the beating the previous day at summer school; Dudley was getting worse, but his healing skills were much better. A good night's sleep was all he needed.

He grew out his hair a bit again, knowing it would irk Petunia, but was no longer something she could complain about; if she punched him, he took it, whatever. He'd gotten good at taking a hit.

Then there was a _crack_ , and all hopes of a good day went down the drain.

He rushed out, one hand protecting his face as he peered at the man, if it could be called that, in the kitchen. He looked around, its wrinkled face peering over circular spectacles like his own. It laid eyes on him, and gasped.

"Gesdlk! Harry!" He called, grabbing the boy's shoulder. "Feddr dkll?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't understand, sir, I'm sorry." He didn't dare ask him to speak English. He would probably get hit.

The stout man, as Harry decided it, adjusted his glasses and snapped. Harry jolted; he felt every inch of his body fill with a spectacular feeling of euphoria, and another snap later he could see perfectly.

He smiled at the man and bowed thankfully. "I... is there anything I can do for you, Mister...?"

His voice sounded detached. Right, he'd been banned from speaking outside of 'yes, aunt Petunia' and 'no, Uncle Dursley, sir'. Using other words was... hard.

The man shook his head sadly, and reached out. Harry flinched, expecting pain, but only got clawed nails holding him gently. He began hyperventilating as the man scratched at Harry's skin gently.

Where was the pain? When was it coming?

Would he die?

The man noticed this and sighed sadly. "You will be fine, Mr Potter," he said firmly.

"Mister... Potter?" Harry repeated fearfully. "I... I'm Harry, sir. I'm sorry, but-"

"No buts," and Harry flinched. He continued somberly, "I need a small blood sample to test your lineage, Harry, so please stay still and silent."

Harry drew in his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, letting the sharp nail take a small bit of blood from his arm, which felt like a strand of spaghetti in the man's hands. There was a hissing sound, and Harry opened one eye, watching as the man muttered hushed words over the vial, which was glowing a strange set of colours.

"Yes, yes, that's... well." he downed a sole drop of the potion and paused, frowning, then letting his eyes go wide. He turned to Harry, and much to Harry's surprise, he bowed.

Harry bowed back, a bit confused, and let the man take his hands.

"My name is Galldaxe," he said, "and I, Harry, am a goblin of the bank Gringotts. I came here to alert you of someone intercepting the payments for your care-"

"I... get paid?" Harry said, confused. "For what?"

"No, the Dursleys do," he said with a hint of distaste. Harry decided that any man who hated the Dursleys was his friend. "for taking care of you. Someone has been intercepting them."

"So that's why they say I cost them so much money," Harry awed. "thank you, Mister Galldaxe. I'll tell my aunt and uncle when they wake up."

Galldaxe shook his head, amused. "No, no, Harry, don't bother. This is between you and me. I have blocked all money coming out of your bank account, so there will no longer be payments, to avoid this. I needed your blood to put an extra protection spell on it."

Harry hummed. "Okay. Thank you, Mister Galldaxe. I'll keep it secret."

Galldaxe finally let go of Harry's hands. "It is alright, Harry. And, since you are likely to meet more Goblins like myself, the proper title is Hald Galldaxe. I appreciate, however, your politeness. It is nice to see in one so young." He smiled softly.

Harry gasped lightly, horrified. "Oh, sorry, sir, er, I mean Hald Galldaxe, I didn't mean to-"

"Calm yourself," Galldaxe advised. "Harry, it is alright. Few even bother to learn; your apologetic face is enough to know."

Harry nodded numbly. "Um, sir?"

"Yes, Harry?" Galldaxe turned, awaiting the question.

"What was the language you were speaking before?" He asked shyly, holding up his hands protectively. Maybe, just maybe, he would be answered, since this man was so different and kind compared to his aunt and uncle.

"Gobbledegook," Galldaxe supplied. With an eager glint in his eye, he continued, "you aren't, perhaps, hoping to learn?"

Harry nodded hopefully. Learning sounded fun; school was fun, because he didn't get hit by the teachers and he was once praised for a '100' on a test.

Galldaxe turned fully to Harry and hugged him. "I will teach you," he said simply, and Harry felt something warm in his core.

* * *

 _July 31st, 1991._

" _Make a wish, Harry,_ " Harry muttered in Gobbledegook with a grin on his face. The dust-traced cake was blown away, and he gasped suddenly when he felt a magical presence apparate on the shore near the house.

He rushed behind the fireplace and willed himself into hiding. Unfortunately, Galldaxe hadn't been able to teach him much more beyond Gobbledegook, but he had encouraged Harry to continue training his 'magic'. Harry had been told many times by the Dursleys - frauds and cheats, the lot of them, he refused to call them family - that magic wasn't real, and many other false truths. Galldaxe had been far more relenting; he explained that dangerous things were going on where his mother and father had lived, and that he was placed with the Dursleys, them being the logically safest option. He scrunched up his nose. Galldaxe had expressed how his death would have been inevitable otherwise; he was basically the equivalent of royalty, proven by a list of names Galldaxe had told him.

Potter was only one of them; among them were Gryffindor, Jaldax, and Hufflepuff from his father's side, and Ravenclaw, Gellerson, and Durst from his mother's. Apparently, the families were known as 'pureblood' families; he'd get to know about them when he was older.

Maybe the time was now.

In walked the largest man Harry had ever seen. From the looks of it, he had giant blood in him; Galldaxe had taken it upon himself to teach Harry a few things about the more incredible things in the world. The man looked around and caught sight of a terrified Dudley.

"Well, Harry," he said, "I must admit, you're a lot bigger since I've last seen yeh," he laughed good-naturedly, "especially around the middle!"

Harry laughed as he stepped out. That was _priceless._

The two Dursleys raced down the stairs of the rickety shack. "I demand you leave immediately!" Uncle Dursley cried, holding out a gun. "You are breaking and entering!"

The giant set fire to the fireplace, marched up to Uncle Dursley, and stated, "Dry up, Dursley, you great prune."

There was a _crack_ that rang throughout history as Hagrid bent the gun with one firm hand.

* * *

A/N: We'll be going year-by-year for a bit after this, be warned. Enjoy.

This, and the next two chapters, are prologues.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter boarded the train, thanking the woman and her sizeable family for helping him and dashing up the steps. He took the first empty compartment he found and waved at them out the window.

A few minutes later, in stepped Ron Weasley, the boy from the platform. He found himself smiling.

"G- Hello," he said politely, quickly remembering to speak English. He'd almost spoken Gobbledegook instead.

"Any chance I could sit in here? The rest of the train is full," The boy inquired hopefully. Harry nodded, and the boy closed the door behind him and sat down.

"You're Ron, right?" Harry asked, recalling what the woman on the platform had said to the boy. "I'm Harry, it's nice to meet you."

Galldaxe had instructed him not to reveal his last name - any of them - unless absolutely necessary.

"Yeah, that's me!" Ron nodded happily. "You're the guy from the platform! Where were your parents?"

Harry sighed. "I'd... well, it's... a touchy subject," he admitted. "not really a fun one."

Ron gained a sad look. "Oh. Sorry."

"Not a problem," Harry was quick to reply. "I expect a lot of people will be asking me that. May as well get used to it now." He still remembered the day Galldaxe had explained in detail what had happened.

Harry had met Galldaxe again in Gringotts, where the Goblins quickly became enamoured with him. With Galldaxe's introduction and a re-test for his bloodlines, he'd been given the chance he needed to get into the tight group the goblins made of themselves. They were perfectly willing to work him through his vaults, leaving a confused Hagrid to wait it out on the first floor and inform Harry how Gobbledegook wasn't exactly a standard language.

There was a rickety sound, and Harry's eyes looked up to see a woman with a trolley filled with sweets he'd never seen before. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" She asked sweetly.

Harry glanced at Ron's sandwich, which honestly looked better than anything he'd eaten, and to the tantalizing sweets which had fully captured Ron's attention.

"We'll take a bit of everything," he decided, pulling a few galleons out of his pocket. He waved Ron to the trolley to take his pick, and once Ron picked his jaw up off the floor he got everything worth getting.

* * *

Harry grinned at his Dumbledore card, reading and re-reading the information on it. It was like a treasure trove; knowledge and sweets in the same place. It was definitely Harry's favourite.

"I got about six o' him," Ron boasted in between nibbling on his Bertie Bott's carefully. "He's the headmaster o' Hogwarts. I bet we'll see him at the sorting."

Harry nodded, taking in the information. He was really hoping to see this man.

He glanced down at the card and hummed. Dumbledore was gone, just like how that picture of Galldaxe's grandson moved and rushed around.

He heard a prim 'ahem' from the door, and glancing up, saw a bushy-haired girl who peered in disapprovingly and asked, "Have either of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

Ron shook his head through his food and Harry replied, "Sorry, I haven't. Want me to help find it?"

"Sure, thanks," She responded, moving away to let Harry through after he assured Ron that he'd be right back. Pulling out his wand, he focused on what he wanted to do.

Turning around, he caught sight of a boy following Hermione closely. Smiling, he asked, "You're Neville, right? Tell me about Trevor, I'll see what I can do." Neville nodded and quickly began describing the lost toad, which Harry quickly got a visual image of.

"Right," he nodded, then gently lowered his wand like a divining rod. Focusing on the search, he willed it to glow in different colours depending on proximity. His silent magic had worked much, much better now that he had a wand.

It glowed blue, but slowly transitioned through the rainbow until it hit red. Grinning, Harry began to follow it down the aisles until they reached one of the booths.

"In here," Harry said firmly, dousing his wand's spell and knocking. A curt "Come in!" resounded from inside, and Harry opened the door.

Inside were three boys, two of which were large and overbearing, but had an incredibly Dudley-esque appearance - in Harry's book, two fools. The other was obviously a stuck-up boy, from the looks of it; everything pointed to a spoiled upbringing, from his combed hair to his peering down his nose. It was so Dudley that Harry spotted it immediately.

"Sorry for intruding, but there's a toad nearby that belongs to another student," Harry informed them, "in this compartment. If you'd please stand up for a moment, we'll get it out." The blonde, obviously disgusted, hopped to his feet, while the other two followed his lead.

Harry repeated the searching spell and found it hiding under one of the inner seats. Knowing that it would be impolite to just get to his knees and reach under, he continued on to will it out of hiding.

A few moments later, Trevor hobbled out, and Harry quickly scooped him up, passing him on to Neville, who thanked him and quickly raced out of there. Harry smiled sadly; he looked just like how Harry expected he looked before Galldaxe had found him.

"Thank you, and sorry once again for disturbing you all," he said quickly, stepping back as the students relaxed. Before he could leave, however, the blond stopped him.

"You must be Harry Potter," He announced firmly. "I'm sorry to see you associate yourself with the muggleborn, but I have no doubt it is merely a short association. You may know me as the Malfoy heir, Draco." He held out his hand.

Harry was horrified. Galldaxe had informed him on polite actions; this was ridiculous. A Malfoy had no place initiating this, and it was obvious he wanted to trick Harry into a firm friendship. Politics, the worst part of the wizarding world. Harry frowned.

"Pleasure," he hissed, barely keeping the disgust out of his tone, "but I'm afraid I must be going. I have a friend holding a compartment for me and I'd rather not keep him waiting." With that, he stormed away, smirking as he relished in the gobsmacked expression of the Malfoy heir.

He would put that boy in his place.

Hermione dashed up next to him. "He was so rude!" She fumed, wringing her fists. "Why, I-"

"Calm down, he's got pureblood manners," Harry assured her. "He'll get what's coming soon enough, with manners like that. There are enough halfbloods around that he'll have half the student body breathing down his neck by Halloween."

Hermione smiled at that. "Good," she nodded firmly, "he deserves it. But on another note... you're Harry Potter?" She continued incredulously.

Harry nodded. "But please, for the love of magic," he begged, "don't talk about it. It's going to be bad enough when they yell it out to the school at the sorting."

Hermione nodded. "Alright. Speaking of sorting..."

"Don't know anything much, but Galldaxe, friend of mine, he told me that we'd be called up one-by-one. Barely takes any time at all." Harry replied, already guessing her question. "Relax. I highly doubt they'd test us this early in the year."

They returned to Harry and Ron's compartment and said their goodbyes as the train chugged along, close to reaching Hogwarts.

* * *

The rest of the year flew by for Harry. He made sure to get average grades, as usual, and made sure to study as much as he could outside of class. He didn't want to cheat with time-turners; after all, they were illegal, but his spare time was running short, what with Ron distracting him too many times to count.

A few subtle hints, and he managed to include Ron in a few study sessions of Harry's. Under the guise of 'exploration' or 'research for getting back at Malfoy', really the boy was so stressful to be around, Harry had managed to keep up his study agenda. He liked Ron, he really did, but the boy was too lazy for his own good. He bet if Ron had had an animagus, he'd be a sloth.

Hermione was equally as troublesome for the opposite reason. She was _desperate_ to get good grades, and only through lots of convincing was she able to let go of forcing the three of them to study their arses off. Harry had managed to calm her down, and her grades actually went up when she let herself relax a bit, which finally sealed the deal for her.

She didn't have to know that Harry studied nearly as much.

Halloween had been quite eventful, what with the troll - Harry had put up a plethora of shielding spells, and promptly instructed Ron on what spells to use to defeat the troll. It was difficult adapting, no spells he would have normally used were ones Ron knew, but with a bit of quick thinking he'd gotten Ron to drop the monster's club on its own head, after some dastardly distraction techniques from Harry.

Harry was shocked at Christmas to see he'd gotten presents. The cloak being the highlight - he'd really have to thank whomever gave it to him, and he had his suspicions about who it could be, considering the behaviour of one spectacled sock-lover - but there were other things, as well. He'd worked hard and managed to sneak some presents for Ron and Hermione, too, though he hadn't been able to get anything particularly spectacular.

Ron's present had been, much to Ron's glee, a set of anti-prank tools. Harry knew that the Weasley twins would have a hard time getting around them - it should leave Ron ready to defend himself from surprise spiders during the summer, if he kept it appropriately hidden.

Hermione, on the other hand, had been a bit easier to buy for. She appreciated muggle things more, and after a bit of debate, he got her a particularly smart study tool set. It was built to create some of the symptoms of what muggles called 'photographic memory', and she had immediately put it to use once Harry had confirmed that it was completely legal.

"I can tell you how it works, if it makes you feel better," He had offered, and she'd finally caved in after a detailed explanation and thanked him thoroughly.

Finally, the Philosopher's stone had been fought over. He was terrified, but using Hagrid's flute he had been able to get past Fluffy, and using a few of the weak calming spells he knew he'd gotten Ron to stop struggling and had worked through the Devil's Snare. The rest of the tests were a bit more of a strong point for Ron and Hermione; even Harry hadn't known much about riddles and potions, though he promised himself to study a bit over summer. He enjoyed his burning weapon supplied through his hands; he hoped to harness that sooner or later. Perhaps it was all his own ability.

Overall, as he headed home on the train, he felt better than he had ever felt in his life.

* * *

A/N: Year two next. Then it gets _really_ interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was upset. While getting his own room had been a significant improvement, he hadn't dared ask for anything more, and of course, he didn't get anything more. While he was now able to avoid the beatings he'd gotten before - honestly, the hat had been right about Slytherin - and with magic on his side, he'd worked out plenty of ways to get through the summer.

It had been very easy picking the lock on Hedwig's cage the muggle way. He made note to keep his skills in mind as he sent her on her way to her nightly flight. He'd quickly had Hedwig send Ron and Hermione quick letters telling them that he'd be away and not to bother sending any letters over the summer.

He had figured out about the blood wards on the house, and had promptly discovered that they no longer existed. Petunia wasn't his blood relative, or at least not close enough of one to keep them up, and so he had pulled some research out and quickly acquired some basic defenses on the house.

When the man from the ministry showed up, Harry found it easy to play innocent. Apparently they'd no idea who _actually_ performed the spell, only that someone had put up a few new wards, and he'd deflected the questions with 'oh, the guy last week with the wand. He said he needed to strengthen the wards'. It had worked like a charm (ha ha), and Harry was off scott-free for the rest of the summer.

Furthermore, Harry had finished his homework for summer during the school year. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but he had no choice; the Dursleys wouldn't have let him do so much as touch his books. He'd been lucky enough to convince them that the broom was only a good luck charm; he had lucked out knowing that Lily, his mother, hadn't shared too much with Petunia.

Dobby was an enigma he hadn't expected. With some traditional Slytherin cunning, however, he'd managed to get away with promising Dobby a few vague promises. He assured his safety, offered Dobby support, and honestly had probably made Dobby's life a million times better by taking off the self-harm hex on him. Really, it was brutal. He'd have to find a way to put Hermione against it.

He was concerned about all of these things, because it made it blatantly obvious that nobody who could change anything was protecting him. His protection charms got much better over the summer, as well as his healing spells and potions, all in the secrecy of his room. He wondered why Dumbledore hadn't ordered anyone to protect him; it was frightening that he'd let so much be at risk with Harry, almost as if he were allowing Harry to position himself for death.

Shopping for the next school year, thank goodness, had already been taken care of. He'd sent Hermione a book during his stay in Diagon Alley - thank goodness he'd saved some floo powder, he didn't have to take it up with the Dursleys this time - since the schools' new teacher was absolute bollocks. He feared for their lives.

He met the school year with reprimands, accusations, and a continually dismal grade in potions. Forget parseltongue being a _snake_ language, no, he _had_ to be the heir to Slytherin.

Which, ironically, he was, though definitely not by blood.

He'd quickly managed to earn supremacy in the Quidditch matches again. With the prat (as he'd come to call Draco) buying brooms, Harry promptly did the same, explaining that while he didn't agree with the prat's tactics, he needed to counter him effectively. They were all top-of-the-line brooms, thank goodness, and now they would be able to compete without being obliterated in the first few matches.

Lockhart's duelling club, as Harry had quickly assessed, were utterly useless. While he quickly withdrew, it was also known that Harry could talk to snakes from rumours floating around. He hated it, but it only got personal when Hermione was petrified as well.

That had eventually led to Ron and himself working through to the Chamber of Secrets. He sympathized heavily with Moaning Myrtle, and so by the time they got there, she let them through without a bit of trouble. Furthermore, he managed to fix Ron's wand after things had calmed down. At least he hadn't done it while Lockhart was around; if no, he would never have obliviated himself.

The basilisk dealt with, the next thing on Harry's list had been freeing Dobby. A bit of cunning here and there, and suddenly Dobby had a sock.

Dobby was a free elf.

* * *

A/N: Filler chapter. Things get interesting now...

PS; Sorry it's late, nearly forgot what day it was. I'll try to maintain a 5-day interval between new chapters for regularity.


	4. Chapter 4

He clinged to his broken leg angrily, watching as he was left in the cupboard to stare at the bulging form of that horrible aunt Marge. Curse her, shame on her. Shame on her and shame on her dog.

It was at this point that Harry had had enough. It was time to ask Galldaxe a favour.

He escaped easily enough. He had shrunken down his things - figuring out how to avoid detection from the tracking around the country had been child's play - and was now a crow, flying with the guidance of Hedwig to Gringotts.

The Goblins took care of their allies, Harry knew. They would help him.

* * *

He landed outside Gringotts at an ungodly hour for wizards, but an alright time for business with Goblins. Storming in as well as one could with a broken leg, he had given out his best apology and compliment in Gobbledegook before demanding that he be seen to and allowed a few liberties.

Galldaxe had been appalled and quickly came to Harry's aid, and with that vote of confidence the other goblins had made quick work of him. He would have to go through some tests, but it would all be worth it.

First, blood tests. He already knew which pureblood families were his inherited ones - Jaldax, Gellerson, and Durst were the ones outside of the house ones. How he managed to be heir to all four houses he never wanted to know. Inbreeding was a subject he felt perfectly comfortable avoiding wherever possible. Slytherin had been the cherry on the cake, really, and that had been from some odd spoils of war rules.

Second were breaking some frightening curses. Harry hadn't been aware of his limiters; someone had had the gall to place illegal power blocks on him. It was only his good luck at asking the Goblins that had gotten him through it safely. Furthermore, they were going to undo the Horcrux in his forehead. It would be painful, but he would live. How Dumbledore had allowed it to stay baffled him beyond belief.

He winced as the enchanted basilisk venom took effect and burned at him. It was only the scar, thank Merlin, but it still hurt like hell. It would all be worth it, though.

 _"Your operation was flawless, Helden Harry,_ " Galldaxe said fondly. Harry smiled at the use of Gobbledegook; it had become soothing for him over the years, and it worked well getting through foggy heads and odd caves, where the sounds worked better to communicate clearly.

 _"Thank you, Hald Galldaxe,_ " Harry replied giddily. _"I wish you all good fortune; you deserve every smile luck shows."_ The goblins were smirking in fond amusement; the boy was too good to be true, honestly.

Harry got down from the chair, helped along by a tall goblin who pushed him down into a bed. " _We will administer the required potions now and have you sleep through the effects overnight,_ " he informed Harry seriously. _"May fortune smile on you, Harry. You'll need it._ "

Harry nodded solemnly and accepted the potions given. It was time to be free again, as free as the day he had discovered how to change his form.

* * *

When Harry woke up, he could _feel_ the magic flowing through him. His head still felt foggy, but was perfectly painless now, and as he left the bed did itself at the very thought.

He grinned. Oh, how _easy_ things would be now.

He rushed to the first goblin he saw and requested that he share the good news, quickly adding on an honest and excellent compliment to be given to as many of those involved as possible. He immediately made some arrangements and sorted out his things; the goblins were more than happy to help out.

 _"As you are now valued brother of the goblins, we wish to inform you of some attempted security breaches._ " he said quickly, shuffling through some papers. _"Albus Dumbledore has been attempting to enter your vault for some time now, Harry, and recently we found that he'd tried to take ownership of the Potter vault through some legal loopholes._ " The goblin huffed his disapproval, giving Harry time to frown deeply. While it was shocking information, Harry had no doubt that the goblin was being truthful; while they did not condemn lies, they had the best bank in the world. They valued their honesty higher than anyone else. On that note, he wondered how idiotic Dumbledore had to be to pull such a stunt.

He continued, " _As this is the case, we're aware he knows only of the Potter vault. He will not breach security if we of Gringotts don't have something to say of it."_ He smiled sadly. _"One good thing came out of this, and that was Hald Galldaxe's discovery of you, Helden Harry. I do hope good fortune continues to strike your path smooth._ "

Harry smiled brightly. " _And may yours be even better than mine, Griphook."_

Griphook had taken over management of the vaults in Harry's care, along with Galldaxe. Working together, the two goblins were unstoppable.

Harry frowned suddenly. Warnings about Sirius Black had run through his mind for ages; could he really trust Albus to protect him now? He had his doubts, and decided to voice them.

" _Hald Griphook?_ " he asked tentatively, " _I ask forgiveness for my follies, but what of the criminal Sirius Black? What can I do to hide?"_

Griphook hissed a deep sigh. " _Helden Harry, I'm afraid there are many lies surrounding that man. I have no doubt of his innocence, but unfortunately, Goblins don't have much influence in laws, no matter how much we study them. He had no trial, and furthermore the circumstances all point to his innocence once you get past the blatantly obvious. He simply wouldn't kill you, and so there is no reason to worry."_

Harry sagged in relief, but felt rage build in him. No trials? That was horrible.

Griphook, seeing Harry's frustration, continued, _"I suggest going into complete hiding, however, as people want things from you. We will keep your secrets, Helden Harry, unto death, for this matters as dearly to us as it does to you. You have mastered your metamorphmagus abilities; I suggest taking a new name, or even one of your other ones, and entering Hogwarts as a transfer. We can get some false documents to use from Beauxbatons; they will be more than willing to help you go undercover, and we don't have to tell them more info than they need."_

" _It's brilliant!_ " Harry enthused, barely resisting hopping to his feet. He already knew French fluently enough to trick native speakers; if he went into hiding, it would be much easier to protect himself. " _I see your mind is as sharp as ever."_

Griphook merely smirked and got to work. _"Prepare a look. This will be the greatest hoax our generation has ever played part in."_

* * *

Harry looked in the mirror, admiring his new looks. He was now Ari Durst, a boy who grew up in France, away from his Indian mother and with his French father in Paris. A pureblood with power, he would turn the school on its head when he entered the great hall of Hogwarts.

He needed to bring some reform, immediately. With the goblin's support, he had bloomed into his potential and broke away from his fears over the people in Slytherin and come to appreciate it. It was too bad the house was so corrupt, at least on the outside.

His skin was tanned and healthy; his eyes had remained green, but he had worked down their lustre from emerald to dark forest. Furthermore, he had reimaged his hair; it was still a bit wild, but it would be far too dark to be Harry's mop of hair, and it would definitely be too calm to be his.

Harry loved being a Metamorphmagus sometimes.

One of the few final changes had been two of his defining features; his glasses, which were disposed of after the goblins employed some good healers to deal with his sight, and his scar, which was simply morphed away. Harry would still take his original form if he was forced with a very specific spell, but until then he was free to be Ari Durst without fear.

He peered out the window at Hermione and Ron in the streets, sticking together as they picked out new pets from the menagerie down the street. He would protect them. They didn't deserve the pain it took to help shoulder his legacy.

* * *

The news broke out, and all hell broke loose; Harry Potter was missing.

It didn't help the public that at around that time, Sirius Black, notorious criminal, was also on the loose, and most likely had Harry hostage.

The news took the darkest angles possible. Theories were thrown around like a game of hot potato; everything from kidnapping to murder was considered. The people of the light were plunged into darkness, and they were absolutely terrified.

Harry, or Ari as he had gotten used to referring to himself as, smirked in amusement as another gossipy woman walked by with her group, proclaiming not-so-secretly that she fully expected Black to have done _something_ to Harry. He winced moments later; he hated lying to his friends, but there was no choice. He needed to keep his secrets.

He got up from his seat, leaving a generous tip on the table and heading for the station with his things. While effectively living in Diagon Alley made it easy for him to arrive on time, he still wanted to be there early for good seats.

* * *

He stared out the window of the compartment, having put away his things earlier when Griphook had accompanied him to the station. It was an odd sight, to be sure, a goblin guiding a student, but since it was the wizarding world and goblins were begrudgingly accepted, people had their thoughts and moved on.

He fiddled with a small necklace around his neck, a gift from the goblins as a symbol of trust and friendship. He smiled at it; it was a reminder of the people whom he could trust. A raven, the animal he most closely identified with, was engraved in it. Yes, it was very important to him.

He watched the students go past his door for a while, until finally, someone stopped and knocked.

He opened it with a wave of his hand, and the girl at the door held back a gasp as she peered in worriedly.

"Erm, is there any space?" She inquired innocently, shifting from foot to foot. "I can't seem to... well, I..."

"You can't find a free compartment?" Harry formed the words for her, smiling gently. She reminded him of himself when he'd first gotten to the wizarding world, nervously asking Mrs. Weasley how to get on the platform.

"Yeah," she admitted.

"Come in, there's some room left in here," he decided, shifting a bit and giving her space. She trotted in thankfully and closed the door behind them, letting down her heavy suitcase with a _thud._

"What's your name?" He asked calmly, turning back to the window as she sorted herself out in the seat opposite. She shifted nervously in his presence, having gained an awkward aura around him since he'd practiced to show his status, but he hoped to correct that quickly.

"Oh, sorry," she apologized quickly, "My name's Carla, Carla Burton."

"Ah, A muggleborn. Nice to see." he nodded. Turning to face her, he continued, "My name is Ari Durst, heir to the Durst family. Have you heard of them?" He inquired, knowing fully she wouldn't have.

"Um... I heard a few mention it at the station, but otherwise no," she admitted shyly. "Sorry."

"That's alright," he allowed, "since you've not been magic-raised, but you'll need a boost if you're going to get anywhere. Listen up, this is important." He adjusted his posture to demand her attention.

She listened.

"I'm really hoping someone informed you here," Harry said seriously, "but there are some magic terms you'll need to know. Muggleborns are those born to non-magic parents; purebloods have both parents as magicals, and halfbloods have one magical parent and one muggle, or non-magic. For example," he pointed to himself, "I'm a pureblood, born to Amoria Gellerson and Devlan Durst, two high-standing pureblood families. You," he pointed to her, "are a muggleborn, born to muggle parents. I can tell because you addressed me the muggle way instead of the pureblood way. Subtle differences, really, but it does end up making a difference." He shook his head slowly, to show his disapproval.

"Oh," she said quietly, taking that all in. "Why is it... separated?"

"Not many good reasons, last war was over that," he said curtly. "Wizarding wars aren't fun. Terrorist group led by a corrupt dark wizard went about spouting nonsense about pureblood supremacy... it was ridiculous, killed off huge parts of the wizarding population." he glared darkly out the door at a blond mop of hair that walked by, nose in the air. "Plenty of purebloods, you'll find, have advantages and treat non-purebloods like dirt. I swear, pureblood manners are worse than manners of a Grindylow." He huffed grumpily. "Don't trust them. Not worth your time unless they prove it."

Carla gulped again. "Um... alright. Thank you?"

Harry nodded approvingly. "You're welcome - you'll need it, trust me on that. Any questions?" He inquired, shooting her a smile.

She reached into her bags quickly, saying, "Oh, yeah. Do you mind telling me if I got the right books? Mum and Dad helped me get them, but I'm not totally sure." She passed over the towering stack to Harry, and he decided to impress her.

Taking out his wand, he muttered a few quick _wingardiums_ and hovered them over to his seat, relishing in her gape of awe. He continued to hover them in front of him one by one, and then hover them back to her, all without speech.

Silent magic was a lot of fun.

Once he was done, he nodded. "You've got all the necessary ones," he confirmed, and she sighed in relief. "But I suggest you talk to an older student if you can about some of the classes. A few of them are lacking, to say the least."

"Lacking?" She inquired seriously.

"Yes, lacking," he repeated. "particularly potions. It's a terrible class, from what I've heard from my relatives. Barely any base to work on. If you're smart, you'll take the time to read this on the train ride if you don't want to be ridiculed." He snapped, and a book flew out of his case into his hands, which he passed over. It was a beginner's course in safety during potion brewing, as well as an encyclopaedia of potion materials and other things.

"I saw this book in Flourish and Blotts'," she commented, skimming it quickly.

"As long as I get it back sometime, take your time with it," Harry allowed. "I'm fairly certain it will help you immensely. If you know any other wizards or witches worried about potions, please don't hesitate to help them."

She nodded, putting it to one side. With a deep breath, she said, "Thank you. This... this is a lot. Nobody told me about this."

Harry laughed, a hollow, mournful laugh. Quietly, he admitted, "Most people are too scared to talk about it."

She nodded solemnly. "I guess war wasn't so long ago, huh," she inquired.

Harry confirmed it with a firm nod. "Not long ago at all."

They lapsed into silence for a good time, until at last Carla worked up the courage to ask a few more questions.

"Can you tell me about this 'Harry' character?" she inquired. "I know he's important, and that he's gone missing, but not much more."

Harry nodded, quickly recalling what he'd practiced for displaying himself. "He's... an interesting bloke, to be sure," Harry said carefully. "powerful wizard. Killed the leader of the terrorists, big stuff. Leaders against the terrorist group in the last war basically proclaimed him defeater of terrorists," he smirked, "even though he was only a year old at the time. You-know-who, or as anyone with half the wit of a Gryffindor calls him, Voldemort, basically forgot about the laws of sacrificial magic and got a death curse lobbed back at him. Put a scar on Harry's forehead and killed himself, but at the moment people are anticipating a return." He shuddered. "Dark times we're in, Carla. You'd better be careful, there are plenty of people out there who would gladly murder the lot of us. Light-side purebloods and muggleborns alike."

Carla numbly took that all in. "Sounds like he's got a lot to live up to," she commented.

Harry nodded. "No kidding. I just hope he isn't dead at this point; they really don't protect the guy as well as they should." It was an incredible understatement on his part, but nobody knew how he was treated at home.

She seemed mildly interested. "How did they protect him?"

He scoffed. "Put up some wards and hoped for the best, at least as far as the Ministry will let people know. Thin as a rake, modest and secretive, keeps to himself and has a minor fear of crowds and adults." He shook his head. "I'm surprised he didn't go dark."

Carla frowned. "Strange. I would've thought they'd protect him much more closely, especially if he defeated Voldemort."

Harry merely nodded in response, and at that point the trolley lady came by. Harry got up immediately, and waved her over.

"Come on, choose some. It's on me," he offered, letting her pick what she wanted. In the end, he ended up just buying a bit of everything worthwhile and throwing it on the seat.

"Thank you," he called after her, returning to his seat and offering Carla a chocolate frog.

* * *

Harry felt the tingle in his body almost immediately, as the place felt suddenly somber. He pulled out his wand and got up, putting a few quick wards on the door without a moment's notice. Carla got up and began to speak, but he hushed her.

"Something's on the train," he warned her, "please, stand back. If it gets in, I'll take care of it; I've got a bit more experience with dark creatures. Now, if you'd stand back a bit..." He gave her a nudge, and she quickly got the hint, stepping back and pulling herself into the corner. After a moment's thought, Harry quickly cast a disillusionment charm on her too, as well as a few warding spells. With a curt nod, he turned to the door and watched with deep concern.

The door swooped open silently, and in hovered a dementor. Harry felt himself empty his happiest thoughts onto the creature, leaving only the worst memories.

"Leave," he hissed, "there's nothing for you here." he felt his body freezing up, and decided he'd had enough, raising his wand.

It moved forward an inch, and he snapped.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He screamed, quickly pulling out as many happy things as he could. During his practice for DADA, he had studied it, and was certain that there was only one memory that would suffice.

First flight.

With a _swoosh_ sound that rushed along with the fountain of white that poured from his wand, it reoriented itself into a wavering, but discernable, Raven. It flapped once, twice, then dove at the dementor, chasing it away and out a window.

He peered around the corridors; there were more. With a steady breath he cast two more, sending them in either direction to clear the hallways, and retreated back into the compartment. He thanked the lord he still had some candy in his bag and quickly tossed Carla a chocolate frog.

"Eat it, it'll help with the side effects of exposure to dementors," he said quickly, grabbing one himself and biting off the head. He hummed in pleasure as the warmth returned to his body, tingling from his core to the tips of his toes.

Carla swallowed her last bit and asked, "What _was_ that?"

"Dementor," Harry answered, swallowing his chocolate as well. "not exactly very nice creatures. They eat happy thoughts and bring bad ones as close to the surface as they can get." He stretched. "I suggest you describe your symptoms, it's important to know you're recovered."

She nodded. "Um... well. I heard..." she shuddered. "I heard my brother leaving for Germany. At least, the argument."

Harry bowed his head. "I'm sorry to hear that. Here, have another Chocolate frog," he offered, and knowing it was for her own good, she ate it.

Gulping down the piece she'd been eating a few minutes later, she asked tentatively, "If you don't mind my asking... what did you hear?"

Harry seized up, but said shortly, "Divorce." He didn't really want her to pry; he'd have to make up more details then, and he'd be easier to figure out.

He wouldn't say that he'd heard his mother and father, nor lord Voldemort, but he was blinking away to get rid of the green aftershock he'd gotten from the experience of reliving that memory.

"Oh, um, sorry," she apologized quickly. Harry stopped her before she could continue.

"It's alright," he said quietly, giving her a weak smile. "I'm... I'm over it. Dad is enough."

They lapsed into silence again until someone came to check on them. He quickly swore Carla to secrecy on the Patronus charm; he explained that it was several levels higher than his skill, and that he'd rather not people knew he was studying higher subjects. She was dubious, but agreed on the terms that he taught her as well.

They departed from the train and made their way over, Hagrid waving over the first years. Harry said his goodbyes and walked off, getting ready to go up the dirt path to the chariots to ride to Hogwarts. He was disturbed to see that there were Thestrals at the front of the carriages; he had assimilated and accepted the thought of death, and even seen it once or twice, but he didn't think that was enough to see them.

He entered a chariot and waited.

* * *

Just as the chariots were to leave, Harry spotted Malfoy rushing over, glancing into chariots in a panic. He rolled his eyes, but his kindness got the better of him and he put his head out, waving him over. He saw Malfoy visibly melt in relief, and the moment he hopped in the chariots were off, Harry closing the door behind him, an eyebrow raised curiously at Draco's expressiveness.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, putting down his things and sagging in relief. He suddenly seemed to remember himself and jolted upright, sitting proudly in his seat and turning up his nose.

"It's alright, no need for the pureblood manners," Harry gestured to him, "I'm already aware of your status, Malfoy. Please, relax."

Malfoy frowned for a moment, then finally gave in, letting his shoulders rest a bit. He seemed nearly ready to doze off.

"Sleepy?" Harry smirked. Draco nodded numbly, resting his chin against the back of the seat but turning his eyes to look at Harry.

"I'm afraid we haven't met," he apologized, turning to Harry again. "my full name is Draco Lucius Malfoy. Yours?"

Harry smiled. "Ari Dimitrius Durst, heir to the Durst family. Pleasure." he held out his hand, and to his relief Draco took it, shaking it warily.

"I wasn't aware of the Durst family having an heir," he admitted. "I was told the line had died out. It's nice to know it isn't gone completely."

Harry shrugged calmly. "I have had some luck getting away from my enemies, Malfoy. It's no small feat." he watched Draco's confused expression with amusement.

Then he recalled what kind of torture Draco's life must be. Being from such a dark family, he was almost certainly taught lies; he'd need to sort out some tests for Draco's personality, but if he was right about his hunch, he could get him to turn around a bit. His smile was forced into a thin line, but he quickly got over his mulling over things. He would stop Draco from turning; he needed it dearly, especially if Slytherin was to recover its reputation.

He looked out the carriage at the faint horses at the front of the chariots for a while. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Draco was watching them as well. He glanced back and forth, until finally Harry caved.

"You can see them?" Harry inquired, eliciting a somber nod from Draco. He watched Draco for a few moments, his gaze piercing the boy's façade of calm.

"I... thought I was going mad," he admitted. "like- never mind. I'm just glad someone as level-headed as you can... the other Slytherins thought I was crazy."

Harry huffed. "They're normal. Thestrals, they can't be seen by people who haven't accepted the concept of death." he explained briefly. "I presume you've had some unfortunate experiences. My condolences."

Draco didn't have anything to say to that, other than a shakily offered 'thanks' which came out at barely a whisper. Harry heard it, however, and smiled to himself.

"If you wish," Harry offered, "I'd rather be on a first-name basis. You may call me Ari." He watched Draco with a steady gaze, his relaxed position giving him a clear view of Draco's face. After a moment, his goal was achieved.

"You can call me Draco," he said suddenly, almost eagerly. Harry shot him a bright smile and nodded approvingly, turning back to the sky.

"I'll take you up on that," Harry replied smartly, grinning. He caught Draco's mouth edging up into a smile, though he suppressed it well.

He guessed he'd have to deal with the reserved façade quickly, or else Draco would stop being expressive altogether.

* * *

He watched with a wince as his friends took their seat grimly at the table, Hermione's usual babble silenced without someone to aim it at. Similar was the case of Ron Weasley, who had quickly become despondent over his friend. The two of them were practically clinging to each other.

Draco's face flickered, and in its place was the familiar sneer that Harry knew so well. "Look at them, pitiful-"

"Silence." Harry said firmly, pressing a hand to Draco's lips. He was so shocked he complied, following silently as the sorting occurred.

Harry stuck behind the masses of first years for the sorting, watching on with curiosity at the different people who went to each house, though mostly Slytherin; that was where his influence was needed most, after all.

It was a few people in when they called out, "Burton, Carla!"

She dashed up to the front, gulping nervously and sitting down on the chair. The hat was placed on her head and mulled over her for a long time; at least two minutes went by before it finally called out "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry didn't know whether to be happy or sad. She was already a friend of his, so he'd have insider information from her if he was lucky, but he was also sad that Slytherin would be her first impression. It took a lot of contemplation to consider Slytherin a house of merit.

Just then, a man walked up next to him and patted his shoulder, getting his attention. His clothes were a bit run-down, but he was nonetheless a handsome man with a kind face and gentle demeanor.

"You'll go after," he informed the boy, "so please wait with me. Albus will announce you."

Harry nodded numbly, not paying him full attention; he was watching Albus fiercely. Already he'd sensed a bit of magic coming off of the man; he intercepted the next spell while scowling fiercely within himself.

 _Legilimens,_ Harry thought, seething. The goblins had taught him the goblin version of the branch of magic; it was far more advanced, much to Harry's pleasant surprise, and he could see it immediately. He quickly formed some mental shields after that, throwing away his anger. He had to think clearly.

He pushed the threads of Albus's magic away, and soon he had Albus's full attention. He found this amusing; Albus definitely wasn't what Harry thought he was, and instead was far more attuned to the darker arts than Harry would have liked to believe.

Albus definitely hid his emotions well. Standing up, the man began his speech, finally relenting on his mental attacks on Harry.

"As the new year begins," he announced, "I have some news for all students. As usual, I warn the first years not to travel into the forbidden forest, wish they not to die a terrible death," Harry detected the slightest hint of amusement at this thought, "and remind them that the school rules can be found in their common-rooms. The prefects will lead the first years to their common-rooms after the feast." he paused. "Finally, I'd like to welcome a transfer student from Beauxbatons to our ranks; his sorting will begin shortly. Please give Mister Ari Durst a warm welcome." Harry stepped forward promptly, dipping his head in greeting to those who noticed the name as the entire school resounded in a rare union of excitement for a new student, those from Slytherin for his blood and those in the other houses merely for a potential new ally. The Durst family was notoriously neutral, after all.

He marched forward and sat down, calming himself and remembering his occlumency lessons. He would merely block his Gryffindor qualities. With his luck, things would go well.

He was successful. The hat barely touched his head before he heard it shout a word that, two years ago, would have filled him with incomparable dread.

"SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

A/N: The long-awaited chapter is here! Big thanks to all of you who left reviews! Hopefully this made up for the short chapter last time. Until next time, everyone. Don't forget to review; it means a lot.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry listened with satisfaction as the Slytherins all clapped proudly. They had expected no less of a pureblood; how ironic that Slytherin was the only house where his blood hadn't given him the title.

He slid into the seat next to Draco, glancing briefly to check it was alright. This likely confused some of the older students, as he wasn't exactly a good Slytherin, but they silently accepted it.

Harry quickly began eating, making it clear that he'd rather not speak. He was glad to find that Slytherins respected that. Carla had been quickly coddled by a few choice seniors, which Harry made note of, the Carrow twins in particular catching his interest as they watched her back during the entire feast, sending warning glances at some of the more dedicated purebloods. He wondered briefly how he'd not noticed them before; they were obviously purebloods, but they seemed not to share pureblood views.

Afterwards, he got up and quietly followed Draco out of the room, glancing back only once to check on Hermione and Ron. They were still quiet.

He'd have to solve that.

Draco quickly led him down into the dungeon dorms, the rooms being gloomy but cozy. He found himself longing to fall asleep on the couch, which looked extremely luxurious, particularly next to the fireplace, which was burning brightly.

He was pointed at a few times, much to his chagrin, but since Harry's disappearance was still big news he found it easier to hide behind Draco than it would have been if people weren't so distracted. He managed to get to his dorm room without much getting noticed.

The small, odd number of Slytherins meant that he had his dorm to himself, which he quickly found he could get used to. He sorted it out immediately, charming a few of the other beds for safety and arranging the bathroom to his liking. He was nearly done when Draco knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Harry called, slamming the chest at the foot of his bed shut. It was particularly useful, having five compartments storing an incredible amount of tools for what he did, but he'd rather keep it secret while he could. The door creaked open and Draco let out a low whistle.

"You've done it up nicely," he complimented Harry, trotting in. "I'll have to remember that trim, it's particularly nice."

"Thank you," Harry replied quickly, still distracted by the trunk. "I'm still sorting things out, but it should be done for tomorrow afternoon. Feel free to visit whenever you like, Draco," he added.

Draco seemed surprised, but quickly relaxed. "Thank you," he added after a moment, "Ari."

Harry got up and sat down on one of the beds. "I'm going to work on setting up the room for a bit," he admitted, "but you're free to stay, Draco. I'm afraid I won't be able to give you my full attention, unfortunately."

Draco nodded. "That's alright," he allowed, politely taking a step back. "I'll... head back." He seemed reluctant.

"Actually," Harry said quickly, sensing the need to be away from rumours, "you don't happen to know any tracking spells, do you?"

It quickly became a deep conversation, in which Harry shared some decent information with Draco. He had his own little project to attend to; it wouldn't take too long as long as he got it right.

* * *

He woke the next morning to his first classes - Potions, apparently - and quickly dashed down the steps and into the potions classroom. It was thankfully nearby, but he didn't want to risk being late on the first day. He was still in Gryffindor mindset, after all.

He reached the room, and thanking the lord it was still empty, he sat down and waited.

The first person through the door after him was Draco Malfoy.

Harry quickly became suspicious. Why was Draco so early? While he was never late for a class, he wasn't exactly known for punctuality. Surely there must be a reason.

Harry watched him sit down silently, so focused he didn't even notice Ari sitting across the way. With a sigh, Harry moved and sat down next to him, letting his books bang on the table to bring Draco back to reality.

"Uh, oh, hi, Ari," he stuttered, cringing through his teeth moments later at the botched hello. Harry snickered and rubbed Draco's shoulder fondly, slowing as he approached to give Draco options.

He accepted it begrudgingly, and Harry celebrated silently. It was bizarre for it to be allowed, in Harry's mind, but otherwise it had been accepted positively.

He watched as students slowly poured into the classroom. Thankfully, the first to arrive assumed Draco had led Ari to the classroom early and left him be; Draco sighed in relief when the last Slytherin sat down at her table. Harry silently noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were in the corner of the room watching them; he was fairly certain they were beyond rescue, but he hoped not to pull Draco away from his friends.

When the last people walked into the classroom on time, Harry watched sharply. Ron and Hermione were never seen apart any more; without Harry to anchor them, they were both disasters. Some had been theorizing that Ron had lost his voice, he was so quiet; Hermione had done the talking for them, deflecting anyone and everyone, simply stating that they had no more answers than the public.

Snape strode into the classroom with his cape billowing behind him. Harry instantly recognized the presence that made so many Gryffindors weak at the knees; he reminded himself that he was a Slytherin now and calmed himself, keeping an extra-close eye on the man and the pair now seated behind him.

"This year," he said primly, pulling his wand out and beginning to write on the board, "we will study some new potions, few as they are in number they are great in importance, and you will furthermore be taught how to handle some of the more delicate and dangerous ingredients, among them the Billywig sting, which we will study today." He tapped the board again, and the substance showed up on it swiftly, along with a quick description.

The class took notes, and Harry glanced briefly around to catch sight of Ron writing notes, or at least copying Hermione's. It was undoubtedly strange; hopefully they were alright.

The class continued uneventfully, other than intercepting a few thrown ingredients before they could land in the brews of other students. Really, the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was absolutely petty. He even caught Draco about to try, but stopped him.

"I'm disappointed," he admitted, slowly teasing the fairy wings out of Draco's hand without him noticing. "I figured you'd be above bullying and sabotage. Apparently I was wrong, but no matter." He did, however, retain his harsh gaze.

Care of Magical creatures was enjoyable. He walked confidently up to the first Hippogriff - Buckbeak was his name - and passed with flying colours, even getting the chance to ride Buckbeak. He'd stood by Malfoy and stopped him swearing twice, apologizing for his behaviour after class. He didn't want to think what would have happened; he agreed that the hippogriffs were a bit advanced, but they were alright for a first-class hook. It would bring in the interest of the students who hadn't been totally convinced. He just hoped Draco would turn it around; he'd managed to get him to behave, mostly, after all. He wasn't sure why Draco was letting him, but hopefully he'd be able to give Draco reason to later.

After that had been Transfigurations. McGonagall had tested him a few minutes before class, smiling when he recognized her in her animagus form. A few quick transfigurations, and she was off to the front again, happy to see he would be able to keep up. By this time, he noticed that Draco was a bit subdued; perhaps he'd realized that bullying wouldn't get a blind eye with Ari, but Harry hoped it was because he was thinking over his choices.

Professor Flitwick had found him to be positively charming (ha ha), and he'd quickly come to be one of the best students in the class. His charmwork had always been alright; his summer training had made it into one of his best subjects. He helped Draco turn his cat into a drawer and back before moving on to experiment himself. By this point, he saw how pointedly Draco hesitated whenever he was about to say something rude; Harry reminded himself that some legilimency was in order to work out his emotions and beliefs later.

It was during Herbology that he noticed the low tension between the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws; it seemed they worked together, mostly. He worked alongside a Ravenclaw boy who seemed to know what he was doing - a lot of the others had Hermione symptoms and believed that all spells could be done with books and knowledge. They were lucky they got placed with the Slytherins, most of whom were excellent at potions. Harry mentioned this subtly; he smiled when the Ravenclaw caught on immediately and chuckled as well. It was nice to have people as smart as you to talk to; Ron didn't see the point nine times out of ten, and while Hermione was better, she wasn't particularly open to new theories when it came to subjects she'd read. She figured that books were the gospel truth, but Harry knew better.

* * *

He had taken three electives, having said in his correspondence to Hogwarts about his attending that he wished to do as such. He had chosen Care of Magical Creatures, of course, but furthermore had chosen Ancient Runes and Divination with the Gryffindors. He was glad he got in, although he _really_ didn't care for Divination; he needed to keep an eye on Ron and Hermione.

He raced up the steps the next morning to be there for divination early. He'd quickly realized that Slytherins did not hold much in the subject either; few outside of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff took it because they wanted to. Harry slowed at the trapdoor and caught his breath, climbing the ladder into the class and glancing around.

He caught sight of a seat at the table that was otherwise filled with Hermione and Ron. He walked over, dropping a bit of his pureblood act, and stopped at the chair, getting their attention.

"Excuse me," he said politely, gesturing to the chair, "is this seat taken?"

"No," Hermione said quietly, and Harry flashed her a bright smile before sitting down. It was then that Professor Trelawney marched in - well, more like drifted absent-mindedly, but it felt like marching to Harry, even if it was the worst attempt at marching he'd ever seen. She glimmered a bit, almost as if she'd been sprinkled in microscopic glitter, and her wiry frame was adorned with excessive bangles and a fancy shawl.

"Welcome to Divination, one of the most difficult subjects any of you will ever learn," she began, in a lazy drawl that could frustrate any student. "in which I will teach you to learn of the future. Not all of you will be able to understand it; as it seems, one of our number will leave us before the end of October." Harry snorted; she was already planting seeds of doubt in the student's minds. It was terrible, really, but she was making her predictions more likely by voicing them. It was a complicated trick, but it worked more often than not.

"Books will only take you so far," she continued, much to the shock of Hermione. Harry smiled; this was the old Hermione, and while it wasn't the part of Hermione he wanted to see, it was still something of her that wasn't clouded by Harry's disappearance. She walked over to Neville and he caught a glimmer in her eye.

"Boy, how is your grandmother?" She inquired seriously.

Neville frowned. "She was doing well, last I checked," he said slowly, the teacher's roaming eye doing nothing for the boy's nerves.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," she said simply, and the stricken expression caused Harry enough pain to put in his two cents.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, professor, Madame Longbottom is one of the healthiest people I know." He huffed his disapproval. "Honestly, stop telling people these things. What's the point?" A few people stopped in shocked awe at that. They'd never heard of someone so obviously taking jabs at a teacher's subject.

"The point," She said sharply, her panic-stricken tone making Harry smile, "is that it will warn you of danger." She said no more, obviously shaken, until a devilish aura tingled on Harry's back.

"Why, Mister Durst," she paused to rearrange her face into neutrality, "it also tells me that when you go to give everyone their teacups for our lesson, you will break two of them. Please pick blue ones to replace them if you don't want a repeat offense." She let him take the implications in quietly.

"How many teacups?" he asked shortly, ignoring the looks others gave him.

"Twenty-five," she replied.

He nodded. "Right, twenty-three it is then." He got up and snapped.

People's jaws dropped as twenty-three teacups flew to the tables and nestled themselves in the saucers already placed on the tables in the musty room. Trelawney's face was positively furious. In their shock, most of those in the room hadn't stopped to think how much power it would take to achieve such a feat.

"Divination isn't a precise magic." he said simply, sitting back down. "visions of the future are not certainties but recommendations. Miss Trelawney, what page are we using?"

She finally snapped out of her stupor and replied airily, "Pages five and six."

"Seven and eight it is, then," he replied smartly, turning to the set of images with a smirk as the lightest of smiles began to play across people's faces.

This year would be fun.

* * *

Draco, much to Harry's surprise and later guilt at the thought, had taken Ancient Runes. Harry had arrived earlier, so he was pleasantly surprised when Draco sat with him voluntarily.

"I was certain you would take Arithmancy as your third," he commented, shuffling into the seat. "I'm surprised."

"I have my reasons," Harry replied, and he did. Arithmancy was pointless if you learned any maths, and Harry was a mathematic master. He figured he could take the NEWTS and pass with flying colours.

There was a brief silence; the room was empty, at the moment. Most students were still eating, after all; it was the class right after lunch. Draco was twisting in his seat; Harry finally gave up guessing and asked outright.

"Why're you squirming like that, Draco?" He asked bluntly. "Am I making you nervous?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" He shot back, plainly confused. " _Nobody_ is nice to the Malfoys except the other dark houses, and the Dursts are notoriously neutral."

"We are," Harry confirmed, "but as for me, I make my own decisions. I don't hold with the separation of magic over common use."

"Say what?"

"I don't believe that there is such a thing as dark or light magic." Harry said irritably. "The thing that makes any magic dark or light is the intention of the caster. If the intent is to kill, it is dark, and if you were smart about it you could do that with Wingardium Leviosa." He shrugged. "Magic is magic. It does things depending on what we want. Our intentions are the only deciding factor in what is good and what is bad."

Draco didn't answer for a long time, staring at the wood in front of him. Finally, he whispered, "I never thought of it like that."

Harry nodded understandingly. "It's alright. You grew up knowing the separation; I wasn't taught that way. My family mostly refrained from telling me much about magic until I started showing it more prominently, and by then I was smart enough to make my own decisions over it."

There was a sudden _click_ , and a boy walked in and promptly fell on the floor, his face and knees swollen and red. Harry first noticed Draco about to get up, but he hesitated.

"Come on, Draco, he needs help," Harry urged, getting up himself and reaching out to the boy. Much to Harry's surprise, the newcomer shook his head violently, though his lips were too swollen to part and say anything.

Harry pulled out his wand, about to cast a healing spell or two and take him to the infirmary when the door clicked. The Slytherin walked in, directly on top of the boy, and sneering continued on relentlessly.

"Oi, you!" Harry seethed, "What do you think you're doing!? He's hurt!" The boy turned, huffing.

"Not my business, he's just a halfblood," The boy reasoned. "Practically as bad as a mudblood, what with-"

Harry's eyes flashed, and the boy found himself under a bodybind jinx faster than you could say 'hogwarts'. Right after that was when Harry got an evil glint to his eye and the boy found his legs convulsing violently, in a humiliating way.

"No one talks like that with me around," Harry informed him firmly, casting the boy on the floor a sympathetic look. "I don't give a shit about your pureblood intricacies." He held out a hand to the boy. "Don't give it a second thought. I'm going to help you whether you like it or not."

The boy sighed in resignation and took Harry's hand, letting himself be helped up and leaning on Harry's shoulder for support. After a brief glance at the boy still under the bodybind, Draco slowly approached.

" _Finite Incantatem,"_ He said first, and the boy visibly relaxed as the stinging hexes stopped, though the current damage probably still hurt like hell. To remedy that, Harry tapped his wand gently on the swelling areas, recalling his latin and muttering ' _relevare dolor'_ a few times under his breath. Soon the swelling had nearly disappeared, and the boy licked his lips and cleared his throat.

"Thank you," he said quietly, standing there in a stupor. "I... you know, people will be upset-"

"I don't give a shit about them," Harry informed him bluntly. "If they attack you, you tell me." He let an evil smile reach his face. "If they try to fight back, they'll regret it."

The boy slowly allowed himself to smile. "I... thanks," he said finally, picking up the books he'd dropped. Draco was even helping by placing them on the table he'd taken with Harry by the time they'd been taken. The two slid back into the benches, and the boy sat down slowly next to them, eying up Draco like he was some sort of predator.

Draco now seemed heavily conflicted. It had only been two days, and already Harry was seeing massive changes, which he was terribly happy about. He could only hope it would last.

"What's your name?" Harry inquired, hoping to remember the student for later.

"Callum," he replied, smiling. "Thanks again... I didn't think they'd throw stinging hexes at me just for voicing my opinion."

Harry nodded solemnly. "It's kill or be killed around here. I don't like it one bit, but at the moment there's very little I can do if nobody wants the change." He brightened. "My name is Ari. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Same," Callum agreed, making it obvious he wasn't from a pureblood family. Harry winced inwardly; had he said that to any of the supremacists, he'd be shunned immediately. Manners was one of the things that helped them keep up an image of difference from the muggleborns, after all, and while Harry thought Callum was very polite, he could see how others thought him less so.

Other students trickled in, a few showing shock at seeing the pureblood under bodybind and tarantallegra and others peering suspiciously at Callum. It all remained quiet, however, and the teacher strolled in, not noticing a thing, and only when the pureblood's few allies walked in did he escape the magic.

Bathesda Babbling was undoubtedly one of the most normal witches you could find. Her robes were a green colour, but it was plain; not quite grass, but not shiny like emerald, and not the dark green one found in the forest, either, but it was undoubtedly green. Her hair was a dark brown colour, reaching down to just below her elbows, and her clothes were a comfortable leather dress and dark shoes which clicked loudly on the stone floor. Harry only had a moment to notice Hermione in the corner of the classroom before she brought attention to the front.

"The introduction to Ancient Runes is on the third page," she said, her words stringing together in a constant tumble. "Please read it, once you have done that, close your books - when everyone is done we will begin by identifying a few numbers." She turned around and began waving her wand in intricate patterns, noting down some simple runes that Harry had seen in the goblin textbooks.

He had learned to read runes already, since the goblins used it frequently as a written language to communicate with other species who did not know either English or Gobbledegook. Rolling his eyes, he went to the book anyway, although he paid half his attention to the other students.

Hermione seemed incredibly out of place in the room, being surrounded by a large throng of Ravenclaws and a decent group of Slytherins. She drifted away from her page occasionally to glance around fearfully, before returning to her reading with a firm determination that settled Harry's twisting stomach. Her clear headstrong attitude, while subdued, eased his fears over her being affected terribly by Harry's vanishing act. She would be alright.

He glanced occasionally at Callum and Draco, although it was less so. Callum seemed nervous, jittery, almost like an orb of energy ready to burst out violently but just about keeping itself in check; Draco was nervous, too, but showed it in his own way, glancing furtively at other people in the room and fidgeting minutely, repeatedly tapping his page or wringing his wrists, squeezing his quill and wasting the ink.

Halfway through the lesson, Harry finally had enough. "Oi, Draco, why're you so tense?"

"M'not tense," He replied immediately, taking a deep breath. "Just a little bored."

"Bored?" Harry repeated. "Then why're you squeezing the life out of your quill? You'll need a new one not a week from today." Draco started to protest, but the evidence was strong; his quill was nearly bent from the sheer force placed on it.

Draco silently reached into his bag for another quill, an embarrassed blush reaching his cheeks. Glancing once to check Babbling wasn't paying attention to them, he continued, "To be honest, I usually have someone to distract me."

Harry's eyebrow raised, and he found himself smirking in amusement. "Really?"

Draco's eyes went wide and he coughed. "Erm. A rival. Not a girl."

Harry's smile just grew. "A rival, you say?"

"Okay, okay, maybe I am a bit obsessed, but it's... not what it looks like," Draco protested. "You'll know him from the papers. Harry Potter? We hate each other."

Harry nodded in what he hoped was a wise manner. "Ah, yes, the joys of a healthy rivalry between two teenaged boys... what a beautiful relationship." He barely withheld his giggles as Draco blushed furiously.

"No, no, that's not it!" He protested. "I swear! I just..." he frowned. "I just don't know what to do with myself. Harry's always distracted me from... well, the train wreck of a life most purebloods live." He sighed deeply, scratching a few words into the parchment as he thought of what to say next. "Harry's so lucky."

"Lucky, you say." Harry stayed carefully neutral. "Why?"

Draco snorted. "He's an entitled prat. Everyone treats him like a king, and in all his Gryffindor modesty, all he does is stumble around, not even bothering to take advantage of it. He goes about treating the Slytherins like evil little snakes, not that there aren't evil little snakes in Slytherin, but still - and he just spends all his time playing hero, never questioning anybody and letting himself be led around like a dog on a leash. He never listens, not when I tell him those friends of him are bad for him, not when I explain how things work to him, not even when I'm showing him why he should have hid being a parselmouth. He's ignorant and gullible and-"

"We've heard this a million times," Callum commented. "Thanks for getting him started. Don't do it again."

Harry chuckled. "Right," he nodded, "I'll take that advice to heart."

"-and then he- hey, are you listening?" Draco frowned. "You're not listening."

"I was," Harry replied defensively. "But it sounds to me like you're projecting yourself onto him. Think about this; what if he genuinely likes and enjoys being with his friends, regardless of who they are or what benefits they offer?" Pausing for effect, he continued, "What if he fully agrees with the notions and decisions of those around him? Why would he try to change that?"

Draco didn't answer for a while. Then, he said, "Um. I guess. That's something." He shook himself. "But why would he? They're all controlling him, and he hates being controlled. Why does he let them?"

"I'm sure the moment they step out of line, he deals with it," Harry replied calmly, as if to quell Draco's protests. "and anyway, I'm sure he believes the same of you."

Draco had a strange look between affronted and confused. "Me? But I'm the picture of manipulated! I'm treated like a name more than a person! I-"

"If you're the picture, Draco dear," Harry replied sarcastically, "Harry is the definition of it. Now kindly remind me what creature the number six uses in its rune."

Draco was too shocked by the backtalk to protest.

* * *

A/N: I was going to make this longer, but honestly, if I'd continued we'd have over 10K words on our hands, so we'll leave it here for now.

Reviews and suggestions welcome, feel free to ask me about anything. Next time, we'll be revisiting some old friends.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry sat down luxuriously on the rarely-used couch in the Slytherin common room. Most Slytherins immediately retreated to their separate rooms to go about with whatever they happened to be doing, and many non-purebloods took the chance to stay in the common room without being disturbed. The purebloods were heavily outnumbered, for that reason, but still commanded control in the room. Harry'd not had a chance to observe this yet; yesterday night, he and Draco had escaped to Harry's dorm room and Harry had explained away a few things under the title of 'personal project', which was technically true of the marauder's map. He'd discovered the object's existence through some chats with the Hogwarts ghosts and was eager to make a map of his own.

He sighed at his book and peered over it at the students in the common room. Many were muggleborns, sharing information and making plans to escape the tricks of the other Slytherin purebloods. In fact, the only other pureblood in the room at the time was Draco.

Draco had a strange reputation among the Slytherins. Being the main contest to Harry got him fame, and he was known to have a sense of humour and mostly ignore the remainder of the student body outside of Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Zabini. This was probably why the muggleborn and halfblood Slytherins felt comfortable discussing their plans around him.

Harry, himself, was under a light disillusionment charm; after all, he'd worried that the common room would be much more dangerous than this. Regardless he kept it up; he didn't know if anything would happen.

Carla, Harry was glad to see, had quickly been adopted into the ranks of the muggleborns and halfbloods. She was currently practicing some detection charms with one of the older students, and making quick headway.

Draco sat down next to Harry with his own book and began reading, ignoring Harry completely. This went on for fifteen minutes until a boy approached them and leaned over the couch.

"Resorting to books without Potter around, Malfoy?" He asked, not unkindly.

Draco huffed. "None of your business, Delcund." He turned a page.

'Delcund' shrugged. "I don't know. You seem pretty tame at the moment. Following Durst around?"

"Of course not," Draco objected. "Durst is following me."

"I don't think we follow anyone, Draco dear," Harry quipped, stretching. "Delcund, was it? Nice to meet you."

Draco stared incredulously at Harry as he nodded politely at Delcund, who nodded dubiously back. "Er... nice to meet you," he replied, before backing off entirely.

"Disillusionment charms? What for?" Draco asked, finally snapping out of his daze.

Harry shrugged. "Wanted to read unobstructed."

Draco accepted that and went back to his own book for another few blissful minutes, until at last Harry noticed something was off. The door creaked open silently to let in a student who bustled by, but the door remained open for a while longer before creaking shut again. Harry got up and sat on the end of the couch, watching the empty space over the top of his book.

He saw a sliver of robes from nowhere, and caught sight of the shimmering material of the invisibility cloak as it disappeared again. Harry tapped Draco's shoulder and got his attention.

"Someone's infiltrated, there's something invisible in here," Harry murmured into Draco's ear. "Be on high alert, don't say anything." Draco nodded quietly and returned to his book, although Harry could see his attention was now around the empty space.

With a flash, Harry suddenly turned, crying out, " _Petrificus Totalus!"_ A _thud_ resounded through the room as the students turned, Harry continuing by ripping some of the loose ropes from the Slytherin decorum and wrapping up the invisible person tightly, adding in a quiet _silencio_.

"I'll deal with the intruder," Harry announced. He cast another spell and continued, "Someone shut the door, there aren't any others. I'll deal with this one." He lifted the invisible package over one shoulder and walked up the steps to his room.

Dropping it, he took off the ropes and murmured 'finite', hearing the soft, shuddery breaths of one bushy-haired Gryffindor as he pulled away the cloak and the remaining spells. She peered up at him fearfully for a few seconds before finally saying, "Ari."

"That's Durst to you, Miss Granger," he replied softly, tossing the cloak onto his bed. "Now. Please tell me what you were doing sneaking into the Slytherin common room."

Hermione got to her feet quickly and responded, "I had some suspicions. About Harry." Harry rolled his eyes.

"I see," he replied, frowning. "what exactly were those suspicions, then?"

She looked shifty. "Harry doesn't have a great track record with the students in this house," she began, "so I figured they might attack him or trap him here, which would be why we haven't heard from him at all." Harry paused for a moment to feel bad, but shook it off.

"I can assure you that no one in Slytherin house has done that, even if we do have some evil little buggers in this place," he told her calmly, shuffling quietly closer to the door in case she attempt an escape. "I would know."

"Then what happened to him?" She retorted, glaring at him. "It's the only explanation I can act on! He could very well be... _dead_ and you don't even care!" she let out a choked sob and began breathing heavily.

"Calm yourself, miss Granger, panicking does nothing to help anybody," Harry said, pulling his wand and hovering over a calming draught he'd pinched from Snape earlier that day. All the Slytherins did it, apparently. "here, calming draught. It's up to you whether you take it, but I don't have time for emotional females," he said with a firm nod, handing it to her. She eyed it dubiously, but eventually took it, taking a deep breath and finally giving Harry a tentative smile as it took effect.

"What should I do?" She asked simply, sitting down on a seat he'd placed in the room. "Sorry I bothered you, it just... seemed logical at the time. Harry doesn't have that many enemies other than You-Know-Who and I'm just a student, I can't do much of anything."

Harry sat down next to her and waited for a moment before he answered. "The Potter vault," he said at last, "was accessed just before the school year began."

Hermione looked up suddenly, peering at his face in confusion. "How would you know?"

"I'm a good friend of the Goblins," he said simply, smirking. "It helps to have a good relationship with them, miss Granger. They are very smart, and fiercely protective of their allies and those who benefit them most. They informed me of such upon questioning."

"Why do you care?" She asked bluntly, her suspicion showing in her defensive stance.

"Why should I not?" he shot back.

Hermione frowned. "Because you're not his friend!"

"Ah, but what if I was his distant family? Which I am?" He informed her.

Hermione swallowed visibly. " _You're_ Harry's family?" She inquired. "But... I thought he said he had no family left. And that his family was known for being in Gryffindor."

Harry nodded. "Durst family members are expected to be Slytherins. You may not know this, but blood has a heavy influence on who gets into Slytherin. The hat is kind enough to place some students here for their protection." He paused to shift his stance. "I am reminded strongly of the case of one mister Sirius Black, who was named traitor to his family and disinherited in favour of his younger brother upon entrance into the house of Gryffindor. We can see how well he turned out." Hermione shuddered and nodded quietly, accepting that.

Getting up, Harry took the cloak in his hands. "Now, as heir to the Durst family," he continued, "it is my responsibility to watch over Potter's vaults as well, in his absence. Until recently it was under the..." he twitched, "...watchful eye of one Albus Dumbledore, and I have a right to put this where it belongs, considering it never should have left the vaults. Thank you ever so much for returning it, miss Granger." He sent her a wicked smile as she hung her head in defeat. He placed it in his trunk quickly and led her back out of the room.

Draco eyed Hermione warily as she left with Harry, deciding to lead her out so that nobody would touch her. Draco got up and followed him as they left, closing the door behind them.

"Now, since I'm not cruel," Harry said with a smirk, "and since you've returned that valuable property, I'll let you off the revenge you would have faced from Slytherin house. However, I'm sure you agree as such a rule-stickler that it is far too late for any of us to be outside the dorms," he continued, and a shudder of dread went visibly through Hermione's body.

"We'll give you five minutes to get from here to the Gryffindor common room," Harry told her seriously, "before we alert our darling Mrs Norris of you, and I'm certain she'll take exquisite pleasure in outing you to Mr Filch. Go." Hermione wasted no time, hightailing it towards the Gryffindor rooms and never looking back.

"How would you out her to Norris or Filch without getting caught yourself?" Draco inquired as they went back in.

"Simple," Harry replied, holding up Hermione's tie, which he'd managed to pinch off of her when she'd left his dorm room. "Place this in the hall. Mrs Norris, as far as I've heard, likes to patrol the doors to the common rooms. She'd find it quickly, I assume." Draco let out a low whistle.

"Impressive," He commented, picking up his book. Harry shot him a smile and took his own book, about to leave when Draco followed him.

"So, what else did you get from the mu-" he cleared his throat. "er, muggleborn?"

Harry smiled. "A very rare artifact she borrowed from our dear friend mister Potter, it seems. How else did she manage invisibility?"

Draco got an evil glint in his eye. "It grants invisibility?"

"I believe that's the cloak's namesake," Harry agreed, going to his trunk and pulling it out. "Try it on, it's brilliant." He handed it off to Draco, who slung it over his shoulders and glanced into the mirror, his disembodied head grinning like a loon.

Privately, Harry smiled to himself. He was glad to have it back.

* * *

It was only a day later that Harry decided it was time to do some research. He knew, now, that Dumbledore was not to be trusted; how he'd come to think the man was alright alarmed him. It seemed so obvious now; heck, he had proof from age nine, when Galldaxe had discovered him and found his aunt and uncle's funds being redirected elsewhere. A short inquiry, and indeed, it was the beloved headmaster who had reclaimed those very funds. Harry wondered why Dumbledore needed the money; after all, he held so many positions. They all earned him a decent fortune. Where did Harry's money go? Was Dumbledore using it for nefarious purposes?

After mulling over what to do next, he'd finally settled on writing a few letters to his goblin peers. They had access to some of the rarest books in existence; surely their knowledge would be able to help him.

Which reminded him, he needed a book from the restricted section. He knew last time he'd been refused and had nearly been caught, but the book he wanted to read in particular was opened with Parseltongue. He knew because the magic he needed was linked to Parseltongue as well; there was no doubt in his mind. For once, he was glad Slytherins didn't shun him for reading; Merlin knows the Gryffindors would have been after him to party at this point.

The spell he wanted - no, enchantment - was a particularly rare and complicated spell, but he was sure he'd manage it. After all, half the reason nobody had used it in so long was because it needed a Parseltongue to be used.

He finished his letter and sealed it delicately, breaking away from his musings when he heard a sharp _tap tap tap_ on the door.

"Ari? It's me," Carla's voice said through the door. "Can I come in?"

"Enter," Harry grumbled half-heartedly, rereading his letter before giving it a firm nod and placing it on his desk as Carla opened the door and walked in, shutting it as quietly as she could behind her. They quivered in a nervous silence for a bit until Harry continued, "Can I help you, Carla?"

"I do have some questions," she nodded, breathing out a near-silent sigh of relief. "I... about Death... Death Eaters." She shuddered. "And You-Know-Who. They stopped talking when that invisible person infiltrated the common room, and they said we had to be careful, but I... I can't wait for this information, it's too important-"

"Calm yourself. I'll give you a basic rundown on where things stand," Harry said agreeably, waving his hand at the seats still set up in his room from when Hermione had visited.

She sat down with a thankful nod, and gulping deeply, she waited for Harry to begin.

Instead, he snapped, and said, "Tea, please, steamed Asphodel." Instantly a small house-elf came to his side and summoned the green tea, placing it on the table between them.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, with a nod, and the House Elf glowed with pride before popping off to another part of the castle.

"What was that?" Carla inquired, before retreating into her seat again and covering her mouth.

Harry smirked at the shy display, though privately he figured that he'd done that once or twice in his life. "A House-Elf. They take care of the school and its students. You would be wise to befriend them; they, despite the cruel treatment they get from most wizards, are some of the wisest and most powerful creatures in existence. They are immune to many spells, but must be bound to a cause - usually a family or individual - to survive, and must serve said cause without question. It's... often disturbing at first, for muggleborns." He explained. "Do not worry for their rights or health; I assure you that the Hogwarts elves are some of the happiest on the planet, and are treated with utmost respect." Carla slowly relaxed, though her thoughts obviously dwelled on the magical being for a bit longer.

"So, you wanted to know some recent history?" He started, after a brief silence. Carla nodded mutely, squirming in her seat. "Alright," Harry said amicably, "Well. I'll begin with the rise of Voldemort, I suppose. Drink your tea."

She picked up the cup and sipped it delicately, placing it down again a moment later and quietly hiding the burn on her tongue. Harry snapped. The burn was gone.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he began, "was the son of a misguided pureblooded woman, and final heir to Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders, and a muggle known as Mr. Riddle." He took a sip form his tea, taking a deep breath. "Mrs Riddle, as she became known, had used some potions to make Mr Riddle fall in love with her. Please remember this, Carla," He made sure he had her attention. "Never, and I repeat, _Never_ have a child under the influence of love potions, or use love potions that last longer than a day. They are highly illegal, and furthermore, children conceived this way become damaged beyond repair." He shook his head. "It's a despicable thing to do, and it's what happened to the child, Tom Riddle."

Carla shuddered. "Right."

"Well, his mother foolishly believed that she could lift the potions one day, and Mr Riddle immediately left the family," He explained, stopping to stare into his tea. "leaving her heartbroken and poor. Without the funds to care for her unborn son, she gave birth to him at a muggle orphanage, dying in the process, where he stayed until he received his Hogwarts letter and thus began gathering followers." He paused to remember the story he'd read in the library, remembering the facts he'd gotten about Tom Riddle from Moaning Myrtle, who he'd struck up a tentative friendship with as Ari Durst. She was a good friend in the castle if you bothered to get to know her.

"He grew to be a very handsome young man, and an influential individual who tricked others into seeing things his way." He frowned. "Hating his muggle father for leaving him behind, he spurred on some rumours, and soon people were turning against the muggles, the small group growing the seeds of hate for non-magic folk. They began rumours, too, about why muggleborns had magic and some purebloods were born without, claiming muggles stole it from magicals." He shook his head. "A ridiculous notion, but some people believe it. Anyways, this created a sentiment for blood purity - for people to marry into the already small gene pool of those who had two magical parents. Inbreeding is the reason many purebloods today are magically weak." He smirked. "I seem to recall a few members of our own house having difficulty in class."

Carla gulped. "So... what did they do?"

"Well, Carla," he stirred his tea to concentrate and ignore the pit in his gut, "you've got to realize, these people who followed him already thought this way. There was already an anti-muggle sentiment in the community from the last Dark Lord. Well, Tom rearranged his name to read 'I am Lord Voldemort' and created his own little cult of muggle-hating blood purists, who then proceeded to use any means necessary to eradicate muggleborns and rule with an iron fist." He stopped stirring and stared at Carla for a few moments, probing her mind for emotions.

She was nervous, a bit terrified, and also concerned.

"You are right to be nervous," He continued, "because their influence continues, even if Voldemort is no longer alive... at least, not entirely. He lives on as a wraith, searching for vessels to carry him to his success, mostly muggles and his most loyal followers. He is not gone," He reiterated, "so I would advise you watch your back."

Carla nodded, contemplating something. Harry left her to brood as he finished his tea.

"You... do you believe him?" She inquired suddenly, recoiling again moments later.

"No." Harry said, allowing her a moment to sag in relief. "I do not believe in anyone, Carla, none but myself. However, should war break out again - and trust me, it will - I will, out of obligation, be fighting for the side of the 'Light'." He snorted. "Light my arse. They just want to be the heroes. Be on high alert, Carla, because the wizarding Britain isn't a nice place. The Ministry is incredibly corrupt, the leaders of our time denying the existence of a threat, the public placing all their hopes on one child in the foolish hope that they will never have to lift a finger, convinced that the Light cannot lose while he lives." He paused. "This boy is Harry Potter."

Carla nodded vigorously. "I hear of him a lot," she commented, pausing to sip her tea quickly before it got colder. "why do people think he's going to get Voldemort again?"

"Because they are fools, and because nobody bothers to study Divination properly," Harry explained bitterly, casting a hushed warming charm on Carla's tea. "I know it isn't right for me to say, but the idiots in the Ministry don't believe him every time he brings up the fact that Voldemort is returning, however slow his progress. Understand that when I say the Ministry is corrupt, I mean it. They take bribes, let criminals go free and prosecute innocents. Never, _never_ get involved in the law if you know what's good for you. Stay on the straight and narrow if you want a shot at protecting yourself from judgement."

Carla stayed silent for a long time. Finally, she finished her tea, and said, "Today, a fifth-year approached me and told me to go to the Transfiguration classroom after dark, if I knew what was good for me," she shuddered. "When I told the Carrow twins, they told me not to go alone. They were scared that the student was a junior Death Eater."

Harry's throat was dry. He didn't know how well he could protect Carla if she went. And after dark? She'd have points taken off if she was discovered, not that he particularly cared. What could he do?

 _Think rationally,_ he chided himself, getting up and pacing. _you need to find out if she'll be safe._

Finally, he laid eyes on his invisibility cloak, forgotten on his bedspread. He silently _accio'd_ the artefact, going over to Carla.

"This," he explained, "is an invisibility cloak. I can't give it to you, since it's a family heirloom," he said calmly, "but I will lend it to you. I will join you, and together we will inspect the classroom, after which we will leave again and enter, with you leading the way." He pulled his wand and cast a quick _Tempus_. "When did he want you to go again?"

"Midnight," she said faintly, her breath strained. "Will... will you be alright? Associating with me? Aren't you a pureblood?"

"The Durst family is notoriously neutral," Harry said with a smirk. "Just because I chose to alleviate a friend's concerns, does not mean my reputation will suffer, Carla. I assure you that this isn't a problem for me; you were right to ask for my help." He paused. "Go back to your room. I'll join you at eleven forty-five."

She got up, and as she left, he added, "And Carla?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone about my cloak. It's rare enough that some students will be idiotic enough to attempt to steal it."

"Right."

 _Click_.

The moment she left, Harry got to work, recalling his protection spells, as well as anything else he could do to protect Carla. He supposed that, if Carla's hunch over him being a death eater was correct, he'd need to damage them somehow, escape, and report. He wasn't stupid; it would be foolish to go in there unprotected, and even more foolish to try and take them on on his own. He needed something foolproof, some help, something to get Carla out of there safely in a worst-case scenario...

He decided they needed some sort of apparition, regardless of the wards. But how? It would be impossible to teach her apparition anyway, so that was pointless, but he didn't know if Floo worked outside of fireplaces or if portkeys could be made in a matter of hours. Groaning, he got up and sorted through the books in his special suitcase, trying to find a title that could help him.

 _Art of Apparition?_ Nope. _Spells and Spam?_ No. _Tales of Terrible Trips?_ No way in hell.

... _The Magic of Snakes?_ Why was he even looking at this-

Wait.

Harry snapped, sorting his books out, and summoned forth the few that mentioned magic related to Parseltongue. Maybe there were some lost arts he could use to apparate in an emergency? One that the school wouldn't ward against, being such a specific skill? That was it, this was the one thing that might work. All he needed to do was find a book that could show him how!

Closing his suitcase again, he got up and grabbed his invisibility cloak, stuffing it into the bag he carried from class to class. Dashing out of the Slytherin common room, he walked for a few halls until he found an empty one, flung the cloak over himself, and cast silencio on himself before racing for the library. If he was lucky, someone would need to go into the restricted section. All he'd have to do was pull a Hermione and sneak in after them.

Creeping into the library, he waited by a corner near Madame Pince's desk, waiting for someone to ask permission to go into the restricted section. Fifteen minutes later, to his surprise, Draco walked in and began chatting quietly to Madame Pince.

Curious, Harry creeped closer and listened in.

"The usual, Madame Pince. Professor Snape has given me permission to do another search of the restricted section for... solutions." He shuddered. "You know."

"Yes, I do know," Pince said sympathetically. "Don't worry, Draco, go on in. If you're going to find any way to avoid taking the mark, it will be in there." She gestured to the door. "Good luck."

Draco nodded dubiously as Harry digested the information. Draco was trying to find a way to avoid taking the Dark Mark? He didn't want to follow Voldemort?

He bemoaned his cruel actions against Draco for just a few moments before following him into the restricted section.

* * *

Draco wasn't an organised searcher, or perhaps he simply didn't know where to look any more. Harry knew where he had to look, though; the bookcase near the back had books considered useless but potentially dangerous. He could search back there.

He quickly found a few titles in Parseltongue, much to his delight. Still under his cloak, he peered at the titles, reading the ones that he could tell were in Parseltongue.

 _Snakes and how to care for them,_ one title softly explained itself.

 _Origin of Snake Healing,_ another proclaimed proudly. It looked a bit more like a history book than one to learn healing itself.

Finally, he found one that fit his needs. _Movement with the Snake Tongue,_ it was called, and he slowly, carefully, pulled it from the shelf. To be safe, he hissed, " _I need to find a way to apparate. Forgive my intrusion."_

Luckily, the book was _not_ one of the ones that screamed whenever someone unauthorized picked it up, and he quickly skipped to the teleportation portion. It was rather simple; He needed to make some marked runes to teleport to, but once he did he'd be able to freely go between them, regardless of wards. If he was quick, he could use some common stones and teleport whenever he pleased.

Noting down the incantations and what he needed, he put the book back. He wasn't risking the castle telling Madame Pince he had the book. He was about to leave, but his curiosity over Draco stopped him, as the blonde was flipping through a book in the section, scowling.

Harry hovered near his shoulder, watching as Draco stopped at one of the pages. "No," Draco muttered, "That won't work, I don't know where I'd ever get those ingredients." He sighed in exasperation and put the book back. A suddenly hopeful look crossed his face, and he dashed to the shelves where Harry had been.

He skipped the Parseltongue books, and finally found one that met his criteria. He skimmed it quickly, made a noncommittal noise, and began storming towards the door. Harry followed quickly, not wanting to be left behind in the restricted section, and quickly headed for his dorm room. He'd need to be quick if he wanted this to work.

* * *

Harry had been working for two hours straight when he finally managed to apparate within Hogwarts grounds. It was very interesting; while the initial incantation and the runes on the stones were in Parseltongue, the keyword for teleporting was chosen, and so he chose the word 'Moon' for it. He figured, after all, that he might move the location stone later, so there was no point giving it a location-based keyword.

He put it in the bed next to his in the dorm room, quietly hiding it under the covers in the center of the bed. Satisfied, he began practice, rubbing the keystone and saying 'Moon'; it promptly threw him into the bed, the other stone under his feet. He repeated this a few times, and grinning at the possibilities, he put the keystone in his pocket.

A few minutes later, Carla knocked on the door quietly, and Harry slipped out before shutting it silently behind them.

He flung the cloak over her, and then shuffled underneath it with her, creeping along to the door and wincing as it creaked in opening. They made quick work, dashing to the classroom, and got there five minutes beforehand.

"Stick close to me," Harry told her, gripping her hand. He felt her ragged breaths on his shoulder as they snuck in through the door, peering at the students in the abandoned Transfigurations classroom. Something occurred to him, and he continued, "Please do not be alarmed; I'm going to mask my identity quick." She nodded numbly, and Harry quickly morphed his face and features into a plain and unremarkable face, brown eyes and brown hair being accented by skin a shade darker. Smirking as he made himself just an inch taller, he paused, then turned to Carla.

"I'll follow you in in the cloak," he explained. "Please be wary while entering, and do _not_ look at me, no matter what. I'll be there, I promise." Carla nodded fearfully and steeled herself before leaving the cloak and walking up to the door.

She reached out to the doorknob, frowned, and instead knocked on the frame, waiting patiently. The door swung open silently and Harry walked past her silently, edging into the corner of the room, where at least four fifth-years stood, staring down at her with some sort of amusement as they stood over a potion, a first-year Slytherin boy sitting on a desk nearby, shivering ever so slightly.

"What do you want?" She asked quietly, eyes darting around as she tried to keep an eye of them. The door slammed shut behind her, and she whirled around in shock before turning again, not wanting to turn her back on the perpetrators.

"You should've stayed in your common room, mudblood," a Hufflepuff girl remarked dryly. "if you had, you'd not be part of this. Well, we'd actually go after you, but at least this way we can use you without attracting attention."

A Slytherin boy which she seemed to recognize walked up to her. "Remember me?" he said smoothly, smirking. "Of course you don't. You mudbloods don't remember anything... like your _place_." He grabbed her wrist roughly and dragged her over to the bubbling potion.

"What are you doing to me?" she asked, keeping her voice level as she could. Harry snuck forward; soon he'd have to mark these people and run.

"Well, we need someone to torture to get into the ranks," Another boy said freely, not even flinching at the idea. "It's about time you get to experience the cruciatus. You know what that is, at least, right?" He snickered. "of course you don't. You're just a _mudblood_."

Harry had enough. He reached for his wand and kicked the potion over, knocking it down. The Hufflepuff girl screeched and hopped away, her foot eroding away in some sickly torture method. Harry winced at what the liquid would have done to her innards, had they made Carla drink it, but ignored that and quickly cast some parseltongue marking spells.

Angry red marks appeared where they were touched, turned into little red snakes and slithered into obvious places; places like their cheeks and forehead, the backs of their hands and their left arms, where he bet some had dark marks. He raced over to Carla, grabbed her hand, and cried, "Moon!"

There was a snapping sound, like a bear trap crashing down on thin air, and the two of them were in Harry's room. He tossed the invisibility cloak at Carla, snapped and called out, "Dixie!"

"Yes, master Durst?" she cried, popping into existence at his side, a bit tired but ready to work.

"Get a teacher, any teacher, and take them as quickly as possible to the transfigurations classroom," he announced. "Also - beware those with red snakes upon their body." She nodded quickly and popped away, as fast as she had come.

"Ari?" Carla asked fearfully.

"Good on you asking for my help," Harry said solemnly. "Those were junior death eaters, I'm sure. Do _not_ leave the Slytherin common room alone after this, understand?"

She nodded quickly, and in a sudden burst of thankfulness she hugged him.

Not really knowing how to react, he merely took it, placing a hand around her shoulder.

* * *

A/N: Woo! Finally done!

If you're curious, there will definitely be more Draco next time. The whole 'doesn't want to be a death eater' thing will be explained later.

Thanks again to all of you who reviewed - it means a lot to me to know that people enjoy this story enough to give it the attention I honestly thought it would never get! Regardless of the overwhelming response, every review means a lot to me, so don't hesitate to send one in, even if there's only one word to be read!

Til next time!


	7. Chapter 7

Harry walked out into the common room early that morning, a nondescript journal in his arms. He caught sight of Carla and immediately walked to her side, putting a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder to get her attention.

She stopped talking to her friends and looked at him fearfully for a moment before relaxing. "Oh, Ari." She sighed in relief. Turning to the Carrow twins, who he'd neglected to notice until now, she introduced, "This is Ari Durst. He helped me yesterday when that gang of students got me."

The Carrow twins wore identical faces of indifference as a pair of high cheekbones and light brown eyes peered at Harry curiously.

Carla gulped nervously at the awkward silence and finally continued, "Um, Ari, this is Flora and that's Hestia. They've been showing me the ropes," She explained, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the Carrow twins at the alien muggle expression.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Harry said amicably, holding out a hand to shake. After a moment, Hestia stepped forward and shook it, and her twin soon followed, though they remained as silent as ever. "thank you for watching over Carla." he tacked on. He barely held in a sag of relief at the dual inclinations of their heads.

"You protected Carla," Hestia said suddenly, startling Harry from his musings. "Thank you."

"We can't openly protect them," Flora explained. "The muggleborns and halfbloods." Why was obvious, but went unsaid.

"Not a problem," Harry responded, smiling reservedly. "I was happy to."

"This is good," Hestia said tentatively. "Now we can tell the others that you're safe to talk around."

Flora nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Mostly we keep out of the way of purebloods, but you seem okay. Especially since you associate with Draco."

"Draco?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is there something I should know here?"

"He has a reputation," Carla said, surprising him just a bit. "he's not openly said it, but he's looking for a defense against the dark mark and other things." She shuddered. "He may not openly advocate the rights of muggleborns, even insulted a few outside our house, but he doesn't agree with him." The pointed way she said this told Harry exactly who she was talking about.

"He's the only one who has permission to enter the restricted section freely," Hestia commented.

Flora elaborated, "Professor Snape favours him. He'll give Draco permission to do lots of things most of us can't get away with."

"I realized," Harry remarked dryly. Inwardly, he was quickly making plans to try and get Draco to let him... 'help'. He really wanted to get his hands on some of those Parseltongue books.

He nodded to the three girls and returned to walking to his next class, quickly running through his plans in his head as a new idea formed. It was clear to him that Slytherin house really needed someone to protect the students from the Death Eaters… well, actually, most houses did, it was simply that Slytherin was the favoured house of Death Eaters. Gryffindor was shunned by them, being the favoured house of the 'Light'. After all, Dumbledore's favouritism towards the house of Lions was quite clear to everyone. Heck, even his familiar was the exalted red and gold. What he needed was a group, a group that people could join that would be hidden from Death Eaters and their sympathizers, that would offer protection…

As he entered his DADA class, he considered his options. He'd need some wards, strong spells, something to mark his group and defend them against damaging magic…

"Are you alright there?" he jolted, eying the professor nervously as he sat down, never letting his gaze leave the professor. His well-trained eye began to catch up and his goblin training kicked in as he quickly placed up some mental shields and turned his eyes to stare directly back.

"I'm fine, Professor, I've simply had a lot to think about lately," he replied to the man - Remus Lupin. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

"I understand," Lupin said amicably. "Just pay attention." The group stood up and Lupin led them away to a closet which rattled and shook ominously.

"What's in there, Professor?" A Gryffindor asked, shuddering. The room felt oddly cold, and Harry shuddered, feeling a marching band of icy beetles crawling down his back. He found it hard to be optimistic about this class.

"A Boggart," Lupin replied, stepping up the front of the class. "It attempts to scare people with their greatest fear… the only way to defeat one is with laughter." He smiled. "The spell used to defeat one is 'Riddikulus'. Repeat after me; Riddikulus."

"Riddikulus," Parroted the class.

"Good. Right, who wants to go first?" A few confident Gryffindors, and some Slytherins hoping to impress, stepped forward, wands at the ready. "Try to imagine it as something humourous," Lupin advised, and he opened the closet.

The wispy magic immediately locked on to the nearest Gryffindor, becoming a miniature Dragon which continued to grow. After a few nervous moments, a young voice breathed, "Riddikulus!" The dragon turned a vibrant pink, snorted, and turned into a toad, before turning to another person and beginning to transform again.

It passed from student to student, and while some took more tries than others, the Boggart was quickly running out of people to scare. Ron, as expected, had a ginormous spider; strangely, Neville's greatest fear was Professor Snape, and Harry caught Draco taking a picture of the transformation as Neville changed Severus Snape's attire into that of his grandmother's old-fashioned dress; soon enough it was Draco's turn.

The boggart transformed into a blonde, blue-eyed man much like Draco, and in the rush to turn it into something else it got confused and turned on Harry. With a deep breath Harry raised his wand, the 'r' of 'riddikulus' on the tip of his tongue as the recognizable form of a Dementor's rags began to ebb out from the fading form of Lucius Malfoy.

The Dementor was one of the biggest, and Harry could taste the cold, limp feeling in the tips of his toes and fingers, even on the tip of his tongue, as if fear were palatable. "Riddikulus," Harry said evenly, breathing deeply and reminding himself of what he needed to do.

The hood of the Dementor lifted, and underneath was a pixie wearing a suit. It began to babble endlessly and allowed a scroll to begin flowing downwards, twirling in the air as if tousled in the wind.

It moved on, and Harry inwardly let out the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. The class quickly continued into a lecture section on boggarts, and Harry was lost in the Defense class for once, only remembering his mission during the break.

Harry raced up to the library to stake it out and make his plans. He needed the wide array of knowledge that the restricted section possessed to complete his mission; creating a third option.

No longer did Harry blindly trust Dumbledore; it was obvious that Dumbledore was not averse to taking advantage of individuals and did not have people's best interests at heart. While he could never join Lord name-whose-impact-value-is-measured-by-hyphens, he doubted he'd get away from the war alive if he didn't create his own option, starting in Hogwarts. He needed to build a base for a new sector that could defend themselves and focus on ending the war by taking out the main players, namely Lord Anagram and Dumb-old-dork. It would have to prevent its members from taking the dark mark, and furthermore give them protection… it was merely a question of how.

Slowing as he reached the door to give the impression of a quiet, timely person, he opened the door and walked up to Madame Pince, the sharp-tongued librarian, reminding himself that he, as a student, had not actually met her before.

"Excuse me, Madame Pince, if you've got a moment?" Harry inquired, stepping up to speak directly to the sharp-featured woman. She turned to face Harry, adjusting her witch's hat, which was adorned with midnight-black feathers, giving her appearance an ominous look.

"I do indeed," She replied tightly. "If you need to take out a book-"

"-from the restricted section, how should I go about receiving permission?" Harry inquired, cutting her off smartly. She paused, peered at him for a moment, then decided to release her floodgate of knowledge.

"You will need someone to vouch for you," Madame Pince began, still a little wary. "Give you permission. You'll need a good reason for going into there, Mister… Durst, was it? I can't imagine that there would be anything you need that wouldn't be readily available. Have you checked our library's selection?"

"I believe that I have quite a unique situation, and am almost certain I will not find the sorts of things I'm looking for among the books available to everyone," Harry said firmly. He glanced around to buy time as he thought about his next words. "It's a matter of personal safety that I don't offer the subject of my research readily."

Madame Pince's eyebrows went up in an impressive questioning look, but quickly reverted. "Can you tell me of your situation at all?"

"Are you aware that some of the books in the restricted section are warded by familial or blood wards?" He quickly amended, "Of course you are. I've recently discovered that I am… the final heir to a large number of extinct pureblood lines, through various marriages, deaths and unfortunate circumstances. I was hoping to read up on my heritage, and furthermore glean what knowledge I could from some of the unused books."

The last few lines truly caught Madame Pince's attention, quickly forgetting the rest of the sentence. As much as she was a terror when her books were damaged, she purred like an overgrown kitten when her precious library books were put to good use and new knowledge brought in for students. Her interest caught, she decided, "Alright, I'll see what I can do to help you. I don't suppose you know which books are your familial ones?"

"No, as I've never been in there," Harry replied remorsefully, conveniently forgetting to mention that he'd been in there twice over his time at Hogwarts, underneath an invisibility cloak, once stalking the person who Harry didn't really know beyond his unhealthy obsession with taunting him. "Who should I go to for permission?"

"You'll need proof that some of the books are locked by family wards before you even try," Madame Pince mused. "But when you do get that evidence, ask your head of house."

"Thank you," Harry said, biting back his displeasure at the difficulty of the solution. He paced out of the library uncomfortably, wondering how he was going to get his much-needed 'proof' so he could inspect the ever-sanctioned restricted section, returning automatically to the Slytherin common room to think.

As he lay down, he stared out the window, watching the owls fly back and forth. He couldn't spot his snowy owl, Hedwig, anywhere, but he was confident that she was safe and sound in the owlery. He really did need a new owl, even if he loved Hedwig; he simply couldn't count on her not to get noticed, being the bright and unique owl she was. Within Hogwarts, she was practically representative of who he was.

As he considered alternative familiars, there was a tapping on the door. "Come in," He called distractedly, still stuck on whether he should get a recognizable familiar or a completely nondescript bird. It wasn't until a familiar voice cleared his throat that Harry gave Draco his attention.

"Need something?" Harry inquired casually, turning reluctantly away from his thoughts.

Draco took a steadying breath. "Yes," he replied tightly. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to help me search for something?"

"What exactly are you searching for?" Harry questioned, leaving his stand up to interpretation.

""Information," Draco replied, pausing briefly to consider how to present his meaning. "I've been trying to find a way to counteract some dark magic. I was hoping you might have an idea…" He sighed. "I suppose you don't."

Harry stared for a moment. "You do have access to the restricted section, right?" He asked suddenly. "And you're in desperate need of this information, from the sounds of it?"

"Yes?" Draco replied, raising a delicate eyebrow. "Where is this going?"

"Simple. I'm heir to a variety of ancient and noble lines," Harry explained, "which means that some of the books in Hogwarts' possession are keyed to only open for family members. Get me into the restricted section one way or another, and I'll give you access to any family books I find in there." Draco paused to think about the deal, nodded once, and smiled.

"It's a deal," Draco agreed. "I'm not going to ask why you want to get into the restricted section, just as long as I can get at those books."

"I'll tell you, if you want," Harry replied with a smirk. "It's rather interesting. I'll need a wizard's oath of secrecy, but I'm sure you can manage that."

Draco eyed Harry for a nervous moment before caving in. "Alright. I swear on my magic to keep it a secret."

The oath solidified. "Good," Harry sat down firmly. "Then I'll tell you. You know about the laws surrounding some of the more barbaric parts of our culture?"

Draco gave Harry an inquisitive look.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Long story short, Harry Potter has rights to the Slytherin vault and rings due to some of the laws surrounding feuding houses, etcetera. Since I'm a distant relative of Potter's, I have the ability to access the Slytherin family wards, and furthermore the Potter wards and Durst wards, among others." He stretched idly, ignoring Draco's impatient - and surprised - look. "There are almost certainly some books in there that belong to the mentioned families that are not in use due to the fact that the wards protect them from anyone who isn't family. If I can get proof that there are books of that sort in there, then I can enter the restricted section on my own. The problem is getting that proof."

"Ah," Draco nodded mockingly. "So you want to get into the restricted section… to gain access to the restricted section. Not answering my question, Ari."

"Keep your robes on," Harry smirked. "You do realize that there are a multitude of books written in runes or Parseltongue in there? Books with unbelievably ancient, forgotten magic? Books that I can access, as heir of Slytherin after Potter?" With each passing hint, Draco's eyes grew eagerly, a gentle grin hidden behind a patented pureblood mask of indifference that Harry was able to easily see past.

"Here's the idea," Harry said quietly, prompting Draco to lean in and listen. "You, who has access to the restricted section, go in there, with me sneaking in after you. I find books from families that have named me heir. I head to Gringotts, cross-reference, and get the data needed to give myself permission to enter the restricted section. I get free reign of the restricted section… you get access to all the family books. It's a win-win situation… and all you have to do is sneak me in."

"Have you got a plan for how we're going to pull this off?" Draco inquired after a quiet moment of awe.

Harry nodded, a familiar grin plastered on his face, the thrill of breaking rules combining with the satisfaction of getting Draco on board the plan. "Here's what we're going to do…"

* * *

Draco steeled his nerves and walked up to Madame Pince with the book he'd borrowed last from the restricted section carefully caressed in his arms. Ari, his new friend from France, quickly dashed in, the only hint he was there a swift brush of wind behind him as he walked up to Madame Pince and gathered himself, pulling all attention to him as Ari crouched behind a plant pot, waiting for Draco to enter.

"I'm here to return this and get another look at the books," he announced quietly, handing her the old volume. It had come up empty, unfortunately; none of the possible solutions worked. They were all too time-consuming, or otherwise unethical for large numbers of people, which was the number of people that probably didn't want to serve the Dark Lord but were going to have to anyway. Like himself.

He dearly hoped that Ari's claims were true ones, because he was staking his final hopes on this.

"You've got your permission slip?" Pince inquired, taking the offered book as if it were the crown jewels. Draco nodded, sliding over the small piece of parchment he'd received earlier that day from Professor Snape.

He really did love his godfather.

"Go on. Good luck," Pince added, giving Draco one of her rare smiles. Step one to having power in a student body; win the favour of the faculty. He returned her gesture and walked slowly to the door of the restricted section, quickly glancing around everywhere so as not to let people notice him leaving the door open long enough for an invisible entity to race past him into the section before he himself entered.

He began walking back and forth along the aisles, not looking at the books but instead at the surroundings, making note of everything there. Luckily, there were no students at this time of night save for him and his invisible shadow, so he gave a nod to the air, and with a swish his companion revealed himself.

"All clear?" he mouthed silently, and at Draco's nod, he began to trace the titles, leaving Draco to his own devices. He was idle for only a moment before he, too, began looking over the different titles, tracing the words and hoping to find something.

"Here's one, Potions of Gellerson," Ari recited. "You have a notepad, right?"

"Er, yeah," Draco dug into his pocket. "Here, keep it." Generosity was a good thing to practice. Durst's smile brought one unwillingly to his own lips, though only for a fraction of a second, before they were back to searching.

"You know your way around," Ari noted after about fifteen minutes of mindless browsing, resulting in various book titles being written down on the notepad. "How is this all organized? Any particular shelves I should be looking at?"

Draco looked up from the shelf he was inspecting. "This one is potions," he began, pointing. "That one's Transfigurations, It goes all along this wall, and the other core subjects are lined up along the east wall. In the center are general books, the next aisle is wards," Ari perked up at the mention of wards, "after that is a shelf which is completely disorganized, then there's one on self-transfiguration - you know, animagi, stuff like that. Further on is a historical shelf with some of the Hogwarts heirlooms. Diaries, Journals, countless copies of Hogwarts, A History…" He turned. "Then there's the south wal."

"South wall?" Ari inquired, peering at it.

"It's the shelf basically marked 'unreadable or useless'," Draco explained, pacing back and forth. "A lot of it is in other languages, lost ones or goblin ones, mostly. A few are even in parseltongue." He shook his head. "I never thought I'd be saying this - but it would be terribly convenient if we had Potter."

"It would," Ari agreed distractedly. "Let's get a better look at the south wall, I bet some of what we need's back there." Before Draco could protest, Ari was off and running, his invisible cape billowing behind him.

"Here, this shelf," Ari murmured excitedly. "All of these are Slytherin books, the four shelves here are locked to the founders and their relatives." He reached out, then retreated. "Know any good cleaning spells?"

A few quiet castings later, they began surfing through the books - or more accurately, Draco stood guard while Ari searched, because they burned Draco's hands if he touched them. After the first time, Draco let Ari handle them, watching eagerly as page after page of ancient knowledge was surfed through.

"I'll have to adjust the wards on these to let you touch them," Ari remarked, leafing through. "These potions, in particular, I'm no good with complicated stuff like this."

Draco smirked. "Well, at least I've got one thing on you."

Ari nodded in agreement idly, too engrossed to pay attention to what he was agreeing to. "Hey, Draco, can you actually check the shelf at the back over there for me for any goblin books?" He pointed at the very end of the wall. "I've got a few connections that could translate them."

"Right away," Draco said amicably, walking over quickly. Working together, they managed to snag at least three interesting titles, before finally they decided to call it a day.

Ari donned his cloak once more, gave Draco a rather childish thumbs up, and disappeared from view entirely, waiting for Draco to open the door. Draco collected up the books and walked out patiently, giving Ari time to race back behind the pot, and then further out the door.

"Madame Pince?" Draco called, placing the books gently on the counter. "These books."

"More than usual," she remarked, casting her spells. "What changed?"

Draco smiled widely. "A new acquaintance of mine struck a deal with me. He's agreed to translate the goblin texts I find in there. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Pince agreed. "Goblins may be fearsome, but they are trustworthy folk." As Draco was handed the books, he decided not to mention that his contact was, in fact, not a goblin at all. He took the books carefully and paced quickly out of the Hogwarts library to see Ari waiting for him.

"Let's get back," Draco commented, but Ari put a finger over his mouth and swiftly pulled the pair of them into an alcove behind one of the banners in the halls. A quick gasp was muffled by a silent spell, and Draco peered up at Ari, eyes blazing with questions.

Ari pulled out an unremarkable rock with a few runes scribbled clumsily over the surface. "A gift, wait until you see what it does before you say anything," Ari murmured, rubbing it between his fingers. Taking Draco's hand, he murmured, "Moon."

The world swirled and Draco suddenly found himself in Ari's room.

"Apparition within Hogwarts?" Draco mouthed incredulously. At Ari's excited nod, Draco took the rock into his hand with much more awe than he originally planned.

"Just say 'moon' and you'll be taken to my room," Ari explained. "It'll take anything that is touching you with it. I suggest you keep it on you in case you run into any unsavoury sorts." He smiled. "Consider it promise payment for how I'm going to owe you until I can get freely into the restricted section." He waved the notepad. "You've been a great help already."

"No problem," Draco said disbelievingly, "but someday you're telling me how you got a portkey this smooth to work in Hogwarts."

* * *

A/N: I'm back! So, how did you like this chapter? Next time, expect some cool spells and some familiar redheads to show up...

more seriously, I'm sorry about missing an update. I'll be sure to try and keep up next time - between starting Silas Snape and The Slytherin Hufflepuff, as well as the many projects that go on behind-the-scenes, I'm sure you can understand how I managed to lose the time I needed to complete the chapter.

With explanations complete, I've got a question for all of you. Is anyone interested in viewing and commenting on Ari Durst before release? I've gotten one beta-reader already, but it still, the more the merrier. All you need for this is a fanfiction account and an email you don't mind sparing, privately, of course. At the moment I'm only looking for one, and furthermore this will be a duty that will be somewhat long-term, but altogether there are no actual requirements beyond those already stated. If interested, send in a PM! Finally, please understand that I won't be able to accept everyone who asks - most likely it'll end up being first-come, first-serve. I appreciate all feedback immensely.

'Til next time!


	8. Chapter 8

The next few days were spent with countless visits to the restricted section, gathering as much data as they could. Harry found a decent amount of information; once the weekend rolled around he would be able to visit Gringotts and chat with Galldaxe about getting access. He was fairly certain there were at least twelve family-locked books in the restricted section he could cross-reference. From there, he'd have the founders at his fingertips. If he was going to make a third option, he'd need all the knowledge he could get.

First, though, there was something he wanted.

"What's the plan today? Will you be able to get into the restricted section soon?" Draco inquired, lazing luxuriously on one of the spare bunks. Recently, he'd effectively lived in Ari's room, between searching through the restricted books and reading the ones Harry had brought from his vaults.

Harry paused, smiled, and said, "Nope. Today we're out for fresh blood."

Draco perked up in curiosity, putting down one of the many books. "Go on."

"Have you ever heard of the Marauders?" Harry asked him, arm-deep in his suitcase as he reached in for one particular book. "They were students here, a legendary group of pranksters from Gryffindor house. Usually I'd laugh at the notion of a Gryffindor being useful-" Draco let out a chuckle, "- but these four were real _geniuses._ They should've been in Slytherin, honestly. Anyways, during their time here they created a wonderful item - the Marauder's Map. It's a self-updating map of the school which not only shows countless secret passages, but people and passwords as well. It's priceless for students such as ourselves."

Draco gaped. "Passageways? People? _Passwords?_ You could sneak into anywhere with that!"

"It's a brilliant piece of work. There's only one in existence." Harry pulled out a small, worn book triumphantly. "Here it is! The full details are in here, though it never explains how they made it. Now, our goal today is to find out what happened to it, and see if we can get it. You in?"

"I'll get access to it?" Draco asked tentatively.

"I thought that was obvious," Harry smirked.

"I'm in," Draco agreed quickly. "So, got any leads?"

"Well." Harry paused. "In their senior year, the Marauder's Map was actually confiscated by Filch. It isn't there any more, however. The trail goes cold from there."

Draco sighed, but then got a strange expression. "Say," he commented, "What does this map look like?"

Harry looked up from his father's journal. "There's a picture in here of it, let me show you." He flipped through the pages and handed the sketch to Draco, who blinked at it a few times before swearing loudly.

"What?" Harry took the book back from Draco, eyebrow raised in elegant curiosity. "Draco, what's wrong?"

Draco sighed in frustration. "I KNEW that map sounded familiar," he hissed. "The Weasel twins have it. They must use it regularly to get their half-assed pranks through!"

"The Weasley twins? Fred and George?" Harry perked up. "Perfect! Now we have a location, I can start on the next step - potions!"

"Potions?! I'm more preoccupied with the fact that you're totally calm about snatching a priceless item from under the Weasley's noses!" Draco screeched.

"Oh, you'll be doing that," Harry replied casually. "It'll be easy. Our problem is working out how to work things so that we can get its functions without them knowing. A two-way mirror is out of the question, they'd notice immediately and I don't know how the magic would mix… then there's a spell duplication goop, but we can't really read a map made of goop, can we…"

"You have a significant lack of common sense," Draco told him unhappily.

"Why thank you," Harry replied with a smile. "Now come here and tell me what this potion does."

* * *

"Draco? Why are you acting like the world has ended?" Blaise asked, sliding in easily next to his housemate. "You didn't manage to sneak any alcohol out of Hogsmeade… did you?"

"No," Draco hissed, closing his book with an audible _thump_. "Heed my warning: do not make a deal with Durst without doing your research."

Blaise mock-gasped. "Draco, you can't possibly have locked yourself in a bad deal?"

Draco hung his head. "He's more Slytherin than _I_ am," he muttered gloomily. "He's roped me into what will probably be the most terrifying experience of my life, if it doesn't end before I finish this. I can't even ask for his help; he's disappeared off to Gringotts for the weekend for his end of the deal."

"I'm listening," Blaise urged him on. "What have you promised that could possibly get you killed?"

"Ari Durst," Draco spat, "wants me to go steal something from the Gryffindor common room."

"Please tell me this isn't leading where I think it is," Blaise whispered fearfully.

"Not only is said something extremely valuable - one of a kind," Draco groaned longingly at the thought, "but it is in the possession of none other than the Weasel twins."

"Failure means death by pranks," Blaise translated unhelpfully.

"If I succeed, which is highly unlikely," Draco grumbled, "Ari is hoping to copy the spell on it and pass it on to some blank parchment. He's promised to give me access to some priceless family heirlooms, as well as this item, but…" Draco slumped on the table. "I'm not sure whether or not I'll be able to manage it. I've got some wicked tools to use, but still. It's going to be a nightmare no matter how I tackle it."

Blaise patted Draco's back soothingly. "Should I gather up some willing cohorts to help you out?"

"Maybe," Draco whispered. "I'll owe you, but maybe this is worth owing people."

"My ears must be failing me," Blaise commented dryly. "But regardless, do you know anyone who owes Ari a favour? Or anyone who wants revenge? We need people more than anything. Distractions, rope-pullers, a team."

"A team, huh," Draco grumbled. "It's weird. I didn't think about it, but Ari works with everyone, doesn't he. Even Gryffindors." The tentative friendship between Ari and Hermione was a strangely fitting one. She seemed to be leaning on him for support, as if he were stepping right into Harry's place at the school. He was already somewhat famous among Slytherins for his lack of discrimination and skill in getting what he wanted.

"Maybe you could ask Ari for help," Blaise suggested weakly. "He certainly owes you for leaving you hanging like this."

Draco sneered. "He'd just want more favours, or worse, call the whole thing off."

"Is he that ruthless?" Blaise inquired. He'd not had a chance to talk to the enigmatic transfer yet.

Draco sighed. "I suppose not. Alright, I'll floo him." Blaise gave him one last bump of support and watched as Draco dragged himself off to the floo.

"Good luck," Blaise murmured, turning away to head back to his room. He needed to plan in case Draco failed this one.

* * *

Harry bowed deeply to the goblin before him. "Gesdlk, Helden Fyrefohl." _What an unfortunate name,_ he thought privately.

"Rise, and use English, Helden Harry. I thank you for your politeness, but Gobbledegook is a bit too clumsy for such things," Fyrefohl replied calmly. Despite his title, he was a humble goblin, and was honest about how wizards improved their lives, despite their inferior magical practices. "I've worked through those books of yours and made English copies. I have taken the liberty of making copies for the goblins as well; many lost spells were in those books."

"It was my pleasure," Harry replied, taking the books into his arms. Just as he was about to begin a tentative chat about the contents, the floo flared and he turned to see Draco framed in the flames.

"Draco? Excuse me, Helden Fyrefohl, I will rejoin you shortly. I must converse with my associate." He placed the books down again and rushed over to the floo. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"I… needyouradvice," Draco hissed hurriedly. Harry blinked, then laughed out loud.

"Hey, stop, it's embarrassing," Draco protested weakly, his only reply being Harry covering his mouth with his sleeve.

Taking a few calming breaths, Harry said, "No, no, it's hilarious." He sighed, chuckling. "Right. What exactly do you want me to tell you?"

"I… was thinking, for the… thing you wanted me to get," Draco phrased slowly, "Would it be alright to work with some others?"

"Hestia, Flora and Carla are safe to work with, I've allied myself with them," Harry reported. "Carla in particular. She'd be eager to return the favour. Other than that, Callum and I are on good terms, though you might have to offer him reasons to trust you. I suppose you're hoping for my take on how to get the MM?"

"Anything I can get," Draco replied wearily. This was going to bite him in the bum later, but he didn't particularly care at that moment.

"Disguise your intentions is the first call," Harry told him smartly. "You've got to mask the entire operation. I'm thinking; go big. Something that will catch the attention of the twins." He got an evil smile. "Say, didn't those two prank the Slytherin table last week? Has the house gotten revenge yet? Maybe you could give them some suggestions… or even lead a prank on House Gryffindor."

Draco's eyes went wide. "Me? Prank an entire house?"

"You forget who you're talking to," Harry told him dryly. "Head to my room and open my trunk. In the compartment near the back is a small library I carry with me. Check the untitled red leatherbound book and the blue hardcover titled 'Zonko's Greatest'. There are some notes in those books on some of the greatest pranks ever in Hogwarts history."

Draco stared expectantly.

He shook his head in amusement. "Talk to the people I mentioned and get them in on the mission. Then rile up the Slytherins and help the group plan out a prank - make sure there's a set day so you can plan ahead. Use the confusion to get up to the Gryffindor dorms undetected, sneak in and head for the fourth floor of the boys' dorm, take the left staircases by the fireplace. The map should be there; the twins wouldn't risk having it on them during the feast."

"How do you know all this?" Draco asked. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"I have connections in every house," Harry replied mysteriously, "and I forgot. Now get out there and do your best. In the event of a mission abort, use the portkey. Call at Gringotts office 264 if you need more help, alright?" Draco nodded quickly and waved goodbye, the floo dying out.

"Is there something you ought to be telling me, Helden Harry?" Fyrefohl asked, amusement twinkling in his beady black eyes. Harry shrugged, getting to his feet from standing in front of the short fireplace intended for goblins.

"I might be trying to secretly borrow a priceless artefact from some Gryffindor Hogwarts students," Harry commented casually. "I wanted a particular spell matrix copied to another piece of parchment for… personal use."

Helden Fyrefohl's eyes were twinkling even more strongly than Dumbledore's. "Perhaps I can help with that."

* * *

"I'm in!"

"Us too."

"Eh, if Ari trusts you, who am I to doubt? What's the plan?"

Draco inwardly slumped in pure relief. "We're going to create a diversion. A big one. From there, we're going to sneak out to the Gryffindor common room, get into the dorms, and grab the map. From there I'll use this to portkey us directly to Ari's room." He showed them the stone, which he'd kept on him 24/7 since he'd gotten it.

"So, know the password?" Callum inquired. "Or is there another way into the common room?"

"That's one of the problems," Draco admitted freely. "I'm going to surf through Ari's trunk for some things that I need, mostly prank books and his cloak. He did say he had connections in all the houses; I was thinking he might have written them down somewhere."

"At least we've got a starting point," Hestia and Flora said in unison. "Let's go."

* * *

"Here they are," Draco said, relieved. Pulling out the two books, he handed them off to Callum, and closed the trunk again. "Now, time to search."

Carla was already at Ari's bedside. "His cloak is here," she called before ducking back into the sheets. Her muffled voice continued, "And if I could just reach, there's some papers back here-"

Hestia pushed Carla gently away and reached down with a thin arm, grabbing the papers and looking through them. "Letters," she murmured, "not what we're looking for." She put them back and glanced around the room.

"Draco, he talks to you most, where would he hide this sort of stuff?" Callum asked, glancing around. "His room looks pretty plain."

"Looks," Draco agreed. "He's got some intricate systems going on in here. Check the lion in the corner, it's suspicious."

Sitting to one side was a lion figurine, which indeed was odd in a Slytherin dormitory, so the small group gathered around it.

"Maybe it needs a spell?" Carla suggested. "Or maybe a hidden pressure plate or something…"

"Don't be silly, he's a pureblood, of course it'll be magic," Callum scolded. "The question is - what kind?"

"Let me try," Draco commanded, waving them aside. Clearing his throat, he said, " _Priori Incantato."_

A flash of coiling green magic, and then a pleased hiss. The Lion statue shuddered, and a stone snake coiled up its body and lay silent on its head.

"That did something," Carla commented weakly. "Is the snake a lock? Did we mess up?"

"No, it's obviously intentional." Draco stepped forward and tapped his wand on the snake's head. " _Carmina Ignotae ostende."_

Above the snake's head hovered a few words in a language Draco recognized. He cursed.

"What's that?" Callum asked. "I've never seen a dialect like that before."

"Parseltongue. He's more devious than I thought." Sighing in frustration, Draco grumbled, "Geez. Next, I bet he'll have us solving riddles."

The snake suddenly hissed happily and slid back, dragging the Lion with it. Underneath was a pile of notes - random words that appeared to be passwords.

"Was… was that the password?" Draco asked incredulously. "Was there even a password?"

"I don't particularly care, we've got the passwords now," Carla said, watching as Hestia and Flora tag-teamed to quickly copy down _all_ the passwords. You could never be too prepared. "Let's go. We've got a prank to plan."

* * *

"Hald Galldaxe?"

"Yes, Helden Fyrefohl?"

"Your little project seems to be up to something."

"What's he done this time?"

"He's been researching some very specific potions… I can't be sure, but I suspect he's planning to take the war into his own hands. I just wanted to say that if he builds a place for himself, the Heldens of the Court will vote to join his cause. He has our interests at heart."

"Thank you, Helden Fyrefohl. It means much to me that Helden Harry is worth that much to you."

"He always has been, Hald Galldaxe. Before being a member of the court or even Harry Potter, he is Phoenix Galldaxe. That means more than any title the wizards could give him."

Galldaxe had no answer. He merely smiled at Fyrefohl, his mind's eye replaying the moment he spoke to a curious child, living in the cupboard under the stairs.

* * *

When Harry returned on Monday, he returned to chaos.

The Slytherin common room was in shambles as preparations were underway for one of the greatest pranks in Hogwarts history. Draco had a megaphone, oddly enough, and was barking out orders to people as students rushed back and forth to inform him of parts of the project that were finished.

Lowering the megaphone, Draco said, "Ari! Thank Merlin you're back! It's been chaos getting this prank in motion."

"I seem to recall you flooing me in a panic two days ago," Harry commented idly, letting out a low whistle as he stepped past some students transfiguring cauldron cake wrappers into streamers. "I suppose you've achieved a lot in two days."

"We have," Draco agreed. "Project Basilisk is coming along nicely. I should be able to manage what you asked me to do easily."

"Project Basilisk," Harry repeated. "Well, one way or another, this will at least be a spectacular thing to witness. Think I have time to join in on this?"

"Go ahead," Draco smirked. "I'll enjoy ordering you around." Harry laughed and mock-saluted, walking off to inspect the different pockets of Slytherins laying on the ground.

Off in the corner, Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house, smiled wistfully. Pranks had always been good for the one thing he could never manage to achieve within his own house; unity.

With a swish of his cape, he was off to tell the house-elves to bring sustenance enough for an entire house to Slytherin common room. They wouldn't be leaving soon.

* * *

A/N: Guess who's been buried in homework? *cries* I missed this so much!

At first, I was a little worried that this was too short for my return to authorhood, but then I realized that it just _had_ to stop here for the sole purpose of CLIFFHANGER. I'm so sorry, you can start throwing the tomatoes now.

Anyways. During the hiatus, some awesome things happened. One of those things was a thunderstorm! The other was that I finished the sketch for the ENTIRE STORY. Yeah, that's right, I've got this beastie under control now! Yay!

Finally, I'd like to address something. This story is unedited. It's the first draft. When I'm ready to, I'll be taking this story and finding an editor to help me create a masterpiece, which will be under a different title but linked to at the Epilogue on this story.

Well, thanks again for sticking with me and for all your support! Until next time…

-MDH

Update - changed some things. Whoops mind my prior mistakes.


	9. Chapter 9

"The prank will last at least three days," Draco explained, as they treaded past students passed out mid-work on the ground. "Starting on Wednesday at the feast and ending on Friday, hopefully. Most of the things we're working on will be activated remotely with a simple incantation - the magic burst resulting will be rather big, though, so we've taken over an obscure hallway for someone to activate it in. Nobody wants to do it though."

"I'll do it," Harry decided, hopping over a first-year who was drowsily casting small levitation spells on some transfigured goblets. He looked suspiciously drunk, but Harry gave him benefit of the doubt and said nothing. "How are you going to get things into the feast?"

"We've already put up the streamers, those were easiest," Draco admitted. "Just had to ask our owls to drop them as they fly past. Our problem will be getting the potion we're using into the food and charming the cutlery."

Harry grinned. "Let me see what I can do about that. We've got at least two hours until potions, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Draco confirmed. "What are you-"

"Follow me," Harry cut him off, grabbing his wrist. "You'll love this."

"Why does that fill me with dread?" Draco commented, though it fell on deaf ears as he was dragged out of the lethargic Slytherin common room and away towards the kitchen.

* * *

"MASTER DURST IS HERE!"

The sheer silence that arrived as Harry strolled casually into the kitchens was maddening. It remained so for only a few seconds before the house elves began squealing in glee and racing over to him.

"Ari? What the hell?!" Draco hissed, eyes bugging out as elves clamored to hug Ari's legs. "What have you done to the house-elves?!"

"I come here often," Harry admitted. "They're the most powerful force in Hogwarts, I swear." At this, a few House-elves blushed in sheer glee at the high praises being sung, making way so that Harry and Draco could sit down.

Draco looked around. "I hope you know what you're doing, Ari, because I'm this close to running away screaming. I've never seen house elves so delirious." And it was true; a few had actually fainted. There were only a few actually acting logically; even as they spoke, a cheerful elf wearing a strange patchwork ensemble with a teacosy on his head brought over some biscuits and pumpkin juice.

"Dobby is happy to see Master Durst and Master Drakey again!" He exclaimed, putting the food in front of them. "What can Hogwarts elves be doing for Master Durst and Master Drakey?"

"I told you not to call me that," Draco grumbled.

"Ah," Dobby acknowledged, "But Master Drakey is not Dobby's master any more, so now Dobby can be's calling you whatever he is liking!" Dobby chuckled, "but Master Durst is liking Master Drakey, so Dobby is being nice."

Draco raised a delicate eyebrow, and Harry shrugged. "Is there something wrong with that reasoning?"

"I'll find something wrong with it eventually," Draco threatened. "Alright, we're here, you've got adoring fans in the House-elves. How is this supposed to help us prank Gryffindor house?"

The elves gasped in unison, and without any warning it devolved into excited chaos. Dobby was grinning from ear to large, floppy ear, eyes shining with mirth as Harry quickly whistled, bringing all the elves back to their senses.

"When is we playing the prank on the Gryffindories?!" One elf cried excitedly.

Another piped in, "Scrappy wants to help too!"

"You'll all get a chance to help," Harry soothed. "Draco? Take it away. Tell them about the prank we're playing."

"Uh, alright," Draco cleared his throat nervously. "We're setting up a prank that will last for three days, approximately. At the moment we're brewing a potion whose effect will be harmless but humourous. I assume Ari was hoping you would spike the food at Wednesday's morning feast with it, and furthermore replace the cutlery normally used with charmed cutlery we're making in Slytherin house."

Whispers erupted, but most elves paid rapt attention to Draco's instructions and explanations as Harry surreptitiously beckoned one of the younger elves. He leaned down and whispered into the boy's ear, watching, pleased, as the child's face lit up in pure ecstasy.

"Do your best," he advised the youth, snapping back up to a standing position as Draco finished with the other elves.

"They'll help," Draco grinned. "The only thing left to do is finish the potions and prepare for Wednesday. This is going to be brilliant."

"You can say that again," Harry replied, waving as he left to the elves, still shivering with excitement.

* * *

Tuesday was spent preparing for Project Basilisk. Though classes needed to be attended, sleep gotten, and food eaten, their minds were on anything but that. Instead, their heads were filled with charms and transfigurations, streamers and potions, and the spectacle prepared for the next day, the next and the next...

Tuesday night, Harry snuck out of the Slytherin common room, smirking with amusement as Draco chatted with the twins, Carla and Callum about their plan to snatch the Marauder's Map. Pleased as a cat who got the cream, he tip-toed into the halls and raced towards the seventh floor, to his father's final discovery.

Bustling past Barnabas the Barmy three times, he raced into the resulting door, closing it behind him and looking around.

A Potions lab. Perfect.

Throwing his cloak aside, he began grappling at ingredients seemingly at random, snatching up some bat-eyes and throwing them in with Hippogriff feathers as if they were _supposed_ to mix perfectly. Strangely, this worked; he began stirring at a frenzy, grinning like a loon.

Now, one must always remember that Harry spent eleven years treated like a house-elf. One must also remember that Harry was a brilliant cook as a result, and therefore had all the skills a potioneer used, as well, since potions was really just very complicated cooking, when one got to the root of it all. Finally, one must acknowledge that until Harry went into hiding as Ari Durst, his marks were as biased as a war's retelling; namely, the victor tells the story, or in this case, the teacher gives the mark.

Therefore, while Harry himself had no idea, he was actually quite a brilliant potioneer, and could probably match Snape in skill if he worked at it; it was Snape who marked him as if he were a potions master and not a third-year student. So while the potion, in another's hands, would have exploded by this point, Harry was skilled enough to steer it directly where he wanted it. Tossing in the Kneazle hair and squeezing in a few drops of an obscure goblin fruit into the mix, he stopped stirring abruptly and began rapidly casting goblin spells.

The potion, under his watchful eye, slowly began to shimmer and shine a glimmering pink. Waiting, he peered at it as it began to bubble, little sparks of magic shooting out each time a bubble burst. Finally, he shot out a stasis spell, sighing in relief and checking to make sure it was secure before racing back to the Slytherin common room.

* * *

Dobby watched with pride as the elves prepared the prank. Harry Potter had given him this task. He would not fail.

Very, very carefully, he poured a bit of the potion into the food. It was harmless, he'd checked, and he was ever so excited to be watching the feast tomorrow. It would be ever so fun.

His elven friend, a little elf named Gresbie, snorted in amusement. "Gresbie is surprised. Dobby is working eagerly for once."

"Master Harry Potter is giving the order! That is why Dobby is finding this task more fun," Dobby grinned. Gresbie laughed knowingly.

Many an elf had felt like Dobby before, but none were quite as honest as Dobby. House elves weren't supposed to be bought or sold; elves were supposed to choose their masters, worthy masters like Harry Potter.

It was true, however, that elves could not leave masters who had not refused them; that was how elves had become property for masters. It was a mediocre life at best for most elves, but most elves would not willingly leave a master; their lives depended on it. The only reason Dobby was still alive was because Harry had accepted him; this made it less fun to work for Dumblydore, but he managed, reminding himself that by helping Dumblydore he was helping Harry Potter.

Gresbie recited a charm on one of the plates. "Gresbie is thinking Dobby should be telling his master the truth," he commented quietly.

Dobby shook his head vigorously. "Dobby is not doing that. Master Harry Potter is nice, but he is not finding comfort in house elf bond. He is likely to be freeing Dobby if he is finding out," Dobby murmured fearfully.

Gresbie sighed. "Gresbie is not thinking that is true, but Gresbie will stop asking. Will Dobby help Gresbie do something to help Master Potter's prank?" House elves were notorious for putting extra flair into anything they did.

"Of course Dobby is helping! What is Gresbie doing for the prank?" Dobby inquired eagerly.

"Gresbie is not telling; Gresbie is showing." He snapped his fingers and passed off the work they'd been doing to some idle elves, grabbing Dobby's hand and popping into the silent great hall.

"Gresbie is thinking," Gresbie explained, "That Master Durst and Master Malfoy are sticking to foodies and streamies because those is the ones they is able to do. Gresbie is thinking to do pranks that Masters are not able to, because they is not able to quietly set pranks up."

"Dobby is listening!" Dobby nodded. "What is Gresbie wanting to be pranking?"

"Gresbie is wanting to charm the roof," Gresbie grinned, pointing. "Gresbie is planning on having rain in the Great Hall."

"Ooh!" Dobby awed, holding up his finger. "Dobby is liking that idea."

"That is not all," Gresbie looked incredibly smug. "Gresbie is planning on raining _treaties_ in the great hall. It will make little masters very happy."

Dobby smiled. "Gresbie is having the best ideas!"

Together, the two elves began to charm the projection on the roof. Tomorrow would be fun.

* * *

Fred and George felt a particularly cold parade of beetles down their backs. Shooting up, the pair glanced at each other. Reading each other naturally, they hopped out of their beds and dressed, quickly heading down a secret passageway out of the Gryffindor common room.

Most normal people would shudder, yes, but return to bed. However, wizards knew what these shudders meant, and it was a close-kept secret that the Weasley family often produced seers. Fred and George were not trained seers, obviously, but they knew how to interpret their skill.

"What was that?" George asked. It went unsaid that both felt it; they already knew from the moment they'd woken up. However, each stored different knowledge, and took over different tasks, to help each other manage more than they could alone.

"I don't know, George." Fred worried. "Sure felt creepy, though. Maybe something's in the castle."

George nodded. "Let's go search."

Fred grabbed a flashlight. George snatched up the map. Together they passed through the passage and hurried off down the halls.

It was a while before they found anything. It was just like old times, really; a little game of dodge Mrs Norris, even if it was laughably easy with the map in hand. It was required for this one, however; as they hit the first floor again, they caught sight of a name moving down the halls.

"Ari Durst?" Fred murmured.

"Doesn't his name look fuzzy?" George commented. "And what's that symbol next to him?"

Words wrote themselves onto the paper.

 _Messrs. Padfoot would like to remind Gred and Forge that that symbol is for the invisibility cloak._

 _Messrs. Prongs would like to say that Ari Durst is a disguised metamorphmagus, and that Ari Durst is not his real name._

Fred and George shared a look and began to follow Durst's footsteps down the halls, following him down a secret passage through to the other side of the floor. From there, he turned and began pacing, as if trying to remember something.

Then, with a triumphant grin, Durst turned to them. "Messrs. Weasley," he greeted them kindly. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Research," they replied, grinning. Internally, both were shivering.

"What's an ickle third year like yourself doing here?" George asked, grinning like a cheshire cat.

Durst laughed. "Same as you - research." He whipped out a hand-drawn map. "Unfortunately, I don't have some of the interesting trinkets you do. My map, however, shows a few things yours doesn't." Giving them a smirk, he trotted off down the hall, at ease.

"What do you think, George? Follow him?" It was a rhetorical question; they did this merely for the sake of humour, a humour all their own.

"Follow him," George agreed, starting down the hall.

* * *

Following Ari Durst was particularly more difficult than the Weasley twins anticipated.

They were fairly certain Ari Durst had caught on, if not anticipated it, immediately. If not, then how had he led them through half the school without getting caught, or even close, to Mrs. Norris? It was almost as if he could naturally tell what was happening in the castle.

They had never encountered such a good chase. Following him through secret passages, lefts and rights that blended into a never-ending wind through the castle; there was something about the way that Ari seemed to simply _know_ where he was going, even if his path was absolutely directionless. The further they went, the more tired they got, the Weasley twin found themselves more eager to discover the secrets behind Ari Durst.

Finally, _finally,_ Ari stopped. Hiding just around the corner, the twins watched warily as Ari began to quietly murmur spells.

"Doesn't he realize he can't cast spells wandlessly?" George asked, but even as he said it Ari created a few chains from thin air. For a sick moment they humoured the thought that he was a werewolf, but it wasn't the full moon, so they watched with rapt attention as he set up and slid away, disappearing completely.

The trap was flawless. Fred and George stared through the spellwork as much as they could, watching the thin veil of white that spun and swirled almost invisibly in the darkness along the small area Ari had chosen.

"What do you think he's trying to do?" This was an honest question Fred posed. Unlike most, George had to think about it carefully.

He finally came up with something reasonable. "He's trying to catch someone… maybe he's trying to catch Black."

"He wouldn't be in the school, would he?" Fred inquired hopefully. "Not with the dementors around."

"Think about that for a second," Ari's voice behind them jolted them awake, spinning around, wands at the ready. Ari prattled on without a care, ignoring their drawn weapons. "Sirius lived with dementors for twelve years and remained somewhat sane, then escaped. Isn't it reasonable that Sirius could break through the failing defenses around the school? The fact they have dementors here at all means that the school wards aren't enough to keep him away."

It actually made a lot of sense, which scared the twins considerably. That they could have a murderer enter the school…

Ari rolled his eyes. "Relax. Either I'll catch him and hand him over to the goblins, or he'll spend the year frantically searching for Harry. I doubt he'd have a reason to hurt you two." He gave them a _look._ "Since you don't believe me, I'm not going to try and convince you. Good night."

However, they suddenly remembered what the Marauders had told them.

 _Ari Durst is a metamorphmagus. Ari Durst is not his real name._

It translated fairly easily into something else. _Ari Durst has something to hide._

The twins nodded at each other and snuck up to Ari as he walked calmly down the halls. Fred reached into his pocket and shook up the capsule of powder - an experimental product - which he threw a few meters ahead of Ari.

In an instant darkness flooded out of the Peruvian Darkness Powder, and Fred allowed a moment to celebrate before following his brother up to reaching for Ari.

Ari dodged swiftly, but George whipped out his wand and cried, "Homorphus!"

In that instant, Ari's eyes went wide, and his face transformed into seriousness. He threw himself bodily to the floor, glaring daggers at them and reaching for his own wand.

Fred slipped in and whispered, "Accio Ari's wand." Ari swore at him as the wand flew from his grasp, but he stayed otherwise focused as the darkness powder coiled away.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid I'm not in polite company," He mused. "Well. Not like I'd be revealing anything." He hopped an inch into the air and his body instantly coiled into itself, rippling and changing rapidly into a crow.

With a single flap of his wings, he swept away down the hall, cutting easily through the coiling darkness and flipping to turn down out the window.

The twins ran to follow him, but in the end they simply weren't fast enough, and watched as a little black crow flew off into the moonlight, cackling at their predicament.

* * *

Padfoot's eyes widened, watching the blackness with rapt curiosity. It had no scent, but he could see it, even if it was obstructing his view of everything else.

He couldn't remember feeling lighter. His mind wandered to the things he had to feel bad about, the things he had to do. Harry… yes. He had to kill Pettigrew. Then he had to find Harry and keep his promise. That was it. Where was Harry? He was certain Harry would have been at Hogwarts, but during his stay he hadn't so much as caught a whiff of him. Well, actually, he had, but he knew that the scent was weak; that was also why he wasn't worried. Even if he couldn't see Harry, Harry was here, and Harry was safe. There was nothing to worry about.

Stretching, Padfoot trotted down the hall, searching for familiar scents. Scents. Right, he needed to follow Pettigrew's trail. It had led him to Hogwarts; Pettigrew was surely here somewhere.

Suddenly, he felt himself trip on his own foot, and as his body was flung forward he felt the uncomfortable twist that accompanied the animagus transformation grip him and change him back. Growling, he put out his hands to break his fall and found himself bound by the wrists in seconds.

Sirius saw red.

Thrashing violently, he fought away the chains, scrabbling to get them off his wrists. They weren't particularly uncomfortable, actually- no! No, he couldn't succumb! Convincing himself there were spells on them to compel him to stay, he began to awkwardly kick at them, holding out his arms for his bare foot to smash at them.

Suddenly, the chains fell off effortlessly, and Sirius let out a whoop of triumph. Take that, chains! He turned to leave quickly, but ran headfirst into an invisible wall instead.

Reaching out, ever curious, Sirius felt the tingle of spellwork and cursed. How had he been caught so easily?! The spell must have taken time to solidify, too. The chains were only a distraction until better defenses could be established.

Sirius flopped down on his back and considered his options. He could try and untangle the spellwork, which would inevitably be extremely difficult without his wand and probably alert the maker of this trap that he'd caught something, or he could wait and jump the ass who had trapped him here. The second option was sounding increasingly alluring; he didn't have to move, he had time to think, and he could wallop the jerk who did this to him.

Looking out the window, he wondered briefly about his friends. The Marauders. Where was Moony? He childishly considered the idea that the werewolf had somehow gotten himself an excellent job and was living the high life somewhere in London, oblivious to the needs of his old friend Sirius, but honestly he doubted that was true. Moony wasn't likely to ever see Sirius again.

A crow was flying past the window. He watched it dip and twirl. It reminded him of flying, and he smiled fondly. He hadn't smiled in a long time.

The crow dove through the window and dropped down next to him. He pulled himself up to his feet and returned the crow's gaze, tilting his head out of habit, listening.

The crow dropped a rock and a letter in his hand, hopped up to his shoulder, and waited.

Opening the letter, Sirius waited for the words to stop swimming in circles and quickly opened the letter. He read it quietly to himself to make sure the words were real.

"To Sirius Black," he awed, "If you've gotten this letter it means that you're trapped. Please take this stone and say the name Prongs gave to his child. It will take you to a quiet, obscure place in the castle where you can use my drone system to find who you're looking for. In hopes of good relations in the future, Ari Durst."

Glancing at the crow, he murmured, "Harry." Nothing happened, and he frowned. He glanced at the crow again. "It didn't work."

The crow let out a high-pitched, keen sound, almost like a laugh. It cocked its head and gestured again to the stone, then to the paper, its beak poking at the curly ink in a determined manner.

Sirius, without any other stray animals to guide him, decided to look again. It seemed the bird was particularly taken with the word 'Prongs'.

Prongs.. Prongs… Pronglet!

"Prongslet," He breathed, and he let out a happy whoop as he felt a pull at his chest. He didn't particularly care about the uncomfortable feeling, because he was free once more, out of the cage, and opening his eyes he grinned at the room around him. It looked just like the Gryffindor common room!

Hopping eagerly onto a seat that felt amazingly like home, Sirius smiled at the crow. "Thanks!" He thanked it, simply because it was polite and he'd always humoured the intelligent birds.

It nodded, contemplative, and hovered over to a sofa where it adjusted itself. Sirius watched it awkwardly; it seemed a little different from most birds.

In flew two owls, though from where Sirius didn't really want to think about. One was an elegant, regal snowy which was a beautiful, vain specimen, and hooted at the crow in solid greeting. The other was a quiet brown creature which Sirius couldn't quite place, but he could tell that it was equally as vain and that it had great pride in everything from its angled, smooth beak to its feathers like carved wood.

There was a light glow, and the crow morphed into a boy.

Sirius leaped to his feet, but the boy, elegant and calm, merely held out his hand in a placating gesture. Taking out his wand, the boy - probably a student - put the wand down on a table in a somewhat obvious statement of confidence in him.

Ah. A pureblood. Years of drilling the pureblood mandate into his head was paying off; he understood this. He relaxed and sat back, glancing around the room.

"I wrote the letter," the boy said suddenly, nervous and awkward. "You're Sirius Black, right? You're really him?"

Sirius nodded. "That's me, innocent man in Azkaban." He paused. "I'm not in Azkaban any more, though. Lucky me."

"Innocent?" the boy parroted. Ari Durst, that was his name. "Are you innocent?"

Really, why did he ask stupid questions? "Yeah, 'course I am. Why'd I betray James? Nah, it's Pettigrew who betrayed us," he growled, feeling tempted to rip into the seat with his claws in frustration. "I know Pettigrew is here, the rat."

"Pettigrew?" Really, was the boy daft? Was he demented?

Sirius groaned. "Yes, Pettigrew! He's here! Pettigrew's here!"

"I'll give him to you if I find him," Ari offered. Ah, now he was talking sense. "What's he look like?"

"Chubby little bugger," Sirius described. The image was burned into his psyche. "Blondish, seedy. Ooh, he's got an animagus form, little rat. That's how I know. I saw him in the papers on the Weasley kid's shoulder."

"I'll see what I can do." Ari paused. Why was the kid pausing all the time? "Say, is there anything else you're looking for?"

Sirius considered for a moment. There was something he was supposed to look for… right. Right. Prongslet. Harry. "Got to find Harry too," he voiced.

Right. This was all for Harry. He needed to care for Harry, like he'd promised James. Ari nodded agreeably. "I know him. He's fine. Focus on healing up and preparing for your return to society."

"Huh? Oh." Sirius frowned. That was right… what would he do after he gutted Pettigrew? He hadn't really thought about that. What… what was he going to do?

Ari Durst, smart kid, gave him time, walking through the common room and feeding the birds. He watched, not really sure he wanted to think about the future right now. He wanted to think about killing Pettigrew, because it was the most satisfying thought he'd had in a while.

Well, he could think about birds. Owls were nice. The snowy seemed rather proud.

"Sirius, please stay as long as you like," Ari said. Nice guy. "There's a fridge through where the boy's dorm is supposed to be - this room is charmed up a bit. Through where the girl's dorm should be there's a movie room that'll let you look at things happening in the castle. It only covers the great hall and the fourth floor hallway at the moment, but I'll hook it up to some more interesting things soon." That sounded nice. It also sounded like a great pranking device. "I'm afraid there aren't any beds yet, but I wasn't expecting any guests so soon." Sirius nodded. That was reasonable. He could sleep on the couch.

Ari looked at him for a few moments. "Sirius," he breathed, getting the animagus's attention. "I… take your time. Get some rest. I'll try and get a network in here so you can call me if you need something."

Sirius nodded absent-mindedly, staring at the ceiling. He was a bit hungry, actually. He remembered the kitchen being… right. Boy's dorm.

Sirius got up and left to eat.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, back again! Education got in the way, but I managed to churn this one out. I'm afraid there will be a bit of a wait before next time, but it will be worth it. I'm afraid this was mostly a preparation chapter, although we'll be seeing more Sirius and Draco in the next few days. We're taking a break from following Harry around everywhere.

I'm just going to say it now before anyone argues with me; it's incredibly hard to portray Sirius. I know that they change him drastically between the movies and the books. He's probably going to be a strange mix of the two, and for that, I apologize. We're working under the assumption that, by exposure to dementors, all Sirius's happy memories of Harry have been pulled from him. He'll be worked on, I promise, but we're going from the ground up.

Finally, I want to ask you all a question. I've been working on the plans for the rewrite of this story once I'm done, and I want to ask; what do you think the title should be? Obviously it isn't the most important thing in the world, but I just can't seem to think of one. I can't make any promises, but I'm taking suggestions.

Until next time, and hope you continue to enjoy!

-MDH


	10. Chapter 10

Sirius woke up and took a deep breath. The world seemed so… relaxed. Light. Like a weight had been lifted off his back.

He wasn't in prison. He gave himself a moment to awe at that.

Getting up off the couch, he looked around the common-room imitation. It was realistic, seemed too good to be true. What had happened yesterday…?

Right. He'd been running on pure adrenaline from getting into the castle, running around as Padfoot and trying to find Pettigrew. He growled, but soothed himself. Yesterday, someone had promised to help him find Pettigrew. He had allies now. That was a happy feeling.

Who was his ally again? Yesterday was rather fuzzy. He looked to the boy's dorm and recalled snuffling through it for food. Thoughts of breakfast entered his mind and he decided to think about it while he ate.

Pulling some food from the fridge haphazardly - he really didn't care what he ate at this point, everything was tasty and wonderful in an 'I'm-alive' sort of way - he sat down on the couch again and started shovelling food into his mouth, thinking about what had happened yesterday.

Right. He'd been trapped. Then the crow had arrived and taken him away - wait, how? No, better not to think on how Hogwarts had changed, if portkeys worked - and then turned into a boy named Ari and offered his help.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have been so trusting, but he seemed alright, so he passed it off as good luck. Right, the birds had entered - maybe one would let him mail Moony or Harry? - and Ari had given him a quick rundown of the place before leaving him to eat and sleep.

Damn. He must have really been out of it, probably a relapse from the dementors he had to get past. Getting up, he briefly made note to ask Ari about a bathroom and walked into the comfy room the girl's dorm door led to.

The room was a relaxing assortment of beanbags, tables, books and a large square of metal that sat in the room. On that metal square was a moving image of the great hall as students flooded in. Interested, Sirius sat down luxuriously on a bean bag chair and watched the screen as the scene began to unfold.

* * *

Lupin had the strange feeling something was going to happen today. He poked warily at his food and eyed the tables suspiciously. He knew it wasn't even close to the full moon, so it wasn't Moony being bitchy, at least. Something was actually wrong.

"Are you alright, Remus?" McGonagall asked, worried. "You seem on edge…"

Remus nodded reassuringly. "I'm not sure what it is, but I have a feeling something's going to happen today."

Severus huffed. "As if. Honestly, you do this all too often." He stared disapprovingly at Remus for a few lingering moments. Then, as if Remus hadn't said anything, he commented, "The students are looking excitable today."

Remus rolled his eyes and glanced at Trelawney's chair. Should he be worried that she didn't come to breakfast? Looking at his food again, he suddenly didn't feel so hungry.

Then he looked up and heard a deafening bang.

* * *

Somewhere on the fourth floor, Harry floated in the air, frowning.

"Well," he muttered, "I suppose I must've overpowered it. Damn."

From all the things that could happen, turning off gravity in the fourth floor hallway wasn't what he'd expected to happen, not at all. Hopefully someone would come rescue him soon.

* * *

Draco suddenly felt sick to his stomach and stared regretfully at his food. Had the prank gone wrong? Looking up, he watched the spectacle unfold.

At every table, people had hair in various outrageous colours. The Gryffindors all had sparkly green hair, which honestly Draco had thought was a great prank, but now he looked up at his own and cried out in dismay. His beautiful blond locks! They were… they were…

"You must be a Weasley," Blaise joked, and Draco groaned into the table. This was only the beginning.

The hall exploded into chatter, but as people kept talking a quiet chant beneath their bums began to make heads turn. Loud chatter turned into a quiet murmur as the voices got louder.

The benches were singing.

Not only were they singing, but it was a familiar tune, at least to a pair of fifth years with matching green hair. They remembered it from two years ago. It was a funeral march.

"Quiet," McGonagall ordered. "Fifty points from… from…" She looked around.

 _All_ the houses had been pranked. Even Slytherin. She couldn't simply dock the points from the unaffected house, or the rival house. Even as she watched, it got worse.

A few of the forks began to float, as well as some of the goblets. There was a brief moment where nothing happened, and people merely watched, before the utensils animated themselves and began flinging food and drink at the other tables. Feeling a sinking regret for making the food self-replenishing, McGonagall cried feebly for silence and for the madness to stop, watching as the students began to join in throwing food at the other students, slathering Slytherins in sauce, greasing Gryffindors with gravy, covering Ravenclaws with cake and even smothering Hufflepuffs in hummus. It was madness in the great hall.

Somehow, some food started hitting the roof, and McGonagall noted faintly that the sky's clouds seemed to be moving out of the way on their own. Suddenly, there was a screeching sound, and the fight stopped abruptly to look up at the roof.

Someone had hit one of the invisible beams at the roof of the building. The single streamer fell from the roof and began fluttering down, falling softly on the heads of the twins.

Then it screamed, "THE WEIRD SISTERS SUCK!" and fell silent again.

Somehow, this created an incredible debate. This debate, unlike most, was fought with food, and the students began getting up and switching around, taking sides. The tables became walls; the teachers watched on helplessly as the two crowds pulled two of the tables up and began using them as giant shields to defend against the food flying between them. Small, lithe students began rushing out to grab more food and pile it behind the walls, building up reserves, and the food fight evolved into something bigger. Each person's house was somehow entirely ignored.

By this time Draco had raced out of the room and went to search out Ari. This was out of their control.

It was about then that the owls began to fly in, as usual. Unlike usual, the moment they passed the mail wards on the room, their letters flashed an angry red and began screaming. This startled the poor owls enough that they dropped their letters as they flew by, nursing smouldering tail feathers as they shot their humans dirty looks, ignorant to the fact that the letters they were delivering were being turned into Howlers.

Hundreds of voices filled the room, drowning out any remaining noise. The students were too focused on the game to actually listen, but some students blushed when motherly 'I love you's or scolding 'we're talking about this's rang through the room. The great hall had devolved into absolute chaos.

An owl knocked over one of the screaming streamers. People stopped bothering to talk. It was interesting to note, however, that the streamers were a bit more colourful than your average screaming streamers; they flashed the house colours and kept wrapping themselves around students, sticking to people and things. Students started throwing the streamers, too.

* * *

Draco fought the laughter, a hand over his mouth and his cheeks blown up comically as he stared at a rather disgruntled Ari.

"Get me down from here." Ari seemed rather put out. "I take back everything nice I've ever said, Draco devil. You'd better get me down from here."

Draco couldn't help it. He burst into gales of tear-inducing laughter. Behind him, Carla pondered over helping him, the twins watched him in mute interest, and Callum had died laughing ages ago.

Why were they laughing? Well, it was hard not to, when the initiator of the whole prank had missed it, instead struggling to escape the no-gravity zone he'd created when he activated the potions. He was flailing helplessly in the air, his robe floating next to him peacefully, and a shoe hovering in the air where his foot had slipped out of it. He looked ridiculous compared to how the usually immaculate Durst looked.

Finally, Carla caved in and leaped into the no-gravity zone with a running jump, pushing Ari towards the other side of the affected area. They landed together, and Ari snatched his robe and shoe, putting them back on hurriedly.

"Thank you, Carla. I'll spare you my wrath. The rest of you are in for a painful time," he informed them. "Have fun getting across this." Pulling out his wand, he quickly recited some spells, and stormed off to the potions classroom not two doors away. Carla glanced back, then followed him, stopping with him at the door to watch the results.

Reluctantly, the rest of the group leaped in, but once they hit the halfway point they hit a wall.

"No!" Draco gasped, feeling his face frantically. "Am I bleeding?"

"No, you wuss, you're not," Callum replied, nudging his shoulder and pushing him back the way they came. "We'll prank you back for this, Durst. Just wait." And with that, he launched off the invisible wall and raced off with Draco to take the long way around. The twins glanced at each other and joined them, waving as they bounced away and touched down elegantly, once more under usual gravity.

Carla and Harry waited.

It was a few minutes before the first food-smothered, colourfully headed students began trickling in. Mostly it was redheads, disgruntled Slytherins silently bemoaning their fate, but there were also green-haired Gryffindors eying up the Slytherins suspiciously. There were some people out there who still believed that the Slytherins had done it. Nobody was going to fess up, obviously, but the tension was still there, despite the two groups looking particularly ridiculous, their cloaks covered in food and streamers and their hair in vibrant colours.

When the students started slowing down, floating, and straight-up running into the no-gravity hall only to find themselves being thrown into the air, the tension increased, as the only unaffected Slytherin watched them, holding back laughter.

This amused some people, annoyed others, and some of the smarter ones began pushing people forward with their legs, trying to get people to float to the door. Ari smirked in amusement, thankful his embarrassing episode hadn't been witnessed by anyone else, and furthermore that it could no longer be used against him - it had happened to _everybody_ who could possibly spread rumours about him. Still smiling, he walked into the potions classroom, giving Professor Snape no indication that anything had happened that morning, regardless of the fact that he had been in the great hall for the first twenty minutes of the prank. Reaching his desk and setting up his cauldron, Professor Snape walked up to him and began asking questions.

It surprised Harry that once he no longer looked like his dad, Snape was unusually kind and attentive. Harry had a new love for potions, and now that he didn't have the professor's hatred, he had Snape's adoration. He still couldn't forgive Snape for two years of torture, and he would always be watching his back, but he was glad to absorb the potions knowledge Snape spouted constantly when he was around. Ari Durst had become his go-to student, even if - just as a joke - Ari kept insisting it was because he was terrible at potions.

"Why is everyone late?" He asked, eying Carla and her bright red hair suspiciously. " _Other_ than this foul prank."

"I believe the hall right before the door has a no-gravity field, Professor," Harry reported, holding back the desire to giggle. "I got here first, of course, but I believe the other students are still trying to get past it."

Right as he said that, students began to trickle in. A Slytherin here, a Gryffindor there; the usual groups had been separated, friends helping other friends across with extra pushes to give them the momentum to get past the field. In the colour confusion, people sat randomly, and by the time the whole class was in, it was a checkerboard of red and green. The only black-haired one in the room snickered as Draco walked dejectedly into the seat next to Harry, glaring at his red hair.

"I hate this," Draco hissed, growling unhappily at his hair. "My beautiful hair, in this ghastly colour. And I swear my face is going to bruise." He rubbed his nose pointedly, searching through his bag for what Harry swore must be women's skin products.

"Oh, poor you, Malfoy," Ron hissed. "What next, someone chipped your nail?" Harry couldn't help it; he bit his tongue hard, trying not to laugh, especially as he heard chuckles running through the Gryffindors. It didn't help that Draco frequently complained about chipped nails.

"You just can't enjoy beauty, can you, Weasel?" Draco shot back, easing back into his chair and assuming an expression of nonchalance. "Not like you have any to enjoy. I swear you're _trying_ to create ugliness."

Harry calmed himself and kicked Draco in the shin. Draco glared at him, offended, but stopped, though from his raised eyebrow Harry had something new to answer for.

Ron sputtered helplessly, but Harry decided to jump in before Ron resorted to petty name-calling and made life terrible. Quickly, he jotted down a note and watched for when Snape's back was turned, writing on the board. Folding up his note and adding a licorice wand for good measure, he launched the message over to land directly in Ron's lap. He kept his eyes carefully on Draco, though he was really looking just past him to where Ron was opening his letter in curiosity, a suspiciously eager Hermione peering over his shoulder.

Harry noted indifferently that Hermione seemed somewhat cheerful about the hair debacle. She'd always hated her appearance, despite the fact that Harry couldn't see anything wrong with her at all; she always seemed convinced she was ugly as a technicolour beaver. He smiled secretly as Ron read the note, glancing at Harry just briefly. Deciding to play a little, he winked deliberately and turned back to his potion.

* * *

"I've got somewhere to be," Harry explained apologetically. "If it makes you feel better, I'll join in on the pranks tomorrow."

Draco huffed. "That was part of the plan anyway. You were going to cover for us while we… y'know." He was still sulking, even if the red hair was barely visible any more. He already knew what was going to happen tomorrow, when the next dose was administered. Draco was already planning on fasting for the rest of Project Basilisk.

Rolling his eyes, Harry offered, "I'll give you one of those goblin books early. I just got some of them in today."

Draco perked up at that. Slowly, he decided, "I suppose you can be forgiven. You did look pretty ridiculous getting past the no-gravity hall." The place had already become infamous throughout the school. The paintings in that hall were getting more attention than they ever had.

Groaning, Harry grabbed his cloak. "Yeah, yeah, so did you, Draco dear. I'm off."

"Come back soon, Ari angel," Draco said theatrically, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. A few Slytherins chuckled as Harry swept away apathetically towards Ravenclaw tower. He had business to attend to…

* * *

Ron sat in the Ravenclaw tower, nervously swinging his legs back and forth as he sat on a chair left there. Staring out the window, he wondered what Durst could possibly want from a Gryffindor, especially him. Maybe to ask about Harry.

Harry.

He really missed his friend. He didn't totally believe the explanations Dumbledore gave them any more. Wasn't Hogwarts the safest place on earth for him? How could anywhere else be safer? Even Hermione agreed with him, and that never happened; the papers had all reported him missing, and for once they decided to believe the papers over Dumbledore's assurances.

He was still a little concerned at how Hermione had been tentatively accepted into Durst's group of growing friends. Sure, he was a powerful ally to have, but… she could just as easily be a stepping stone for him.

Now that he had a bit of perspective and time to think, Harry's situation seemed...strange. Why was Harry so small? Why did he have hectic eating patterns? Even Hermione didn't notice the last one, but as someone who'd always been well-fed, Harry's behaviour was weird. He'd promised himself he'd protect his friend from anything, but it seemed Harry wasn't even there to be protected...

The door opened, and Durst marched into the room primly. Ron adjusted his seat and attempted a casual politeness as he watched Durst close the door behind him.

"Thanks for coming, wasn't sure you'd trust a Slytherin," he admitted, and immediately Ron's heart was won. He could tell by the way little gold sparks flew around him that his words were true. The usual spark of magic - he could see a powerful glow around Ari smothering his body when he peered at him close enough - and a trickle of thin reddish-orange flashed over his skin. Huh. He hadn't heard anything about Ari being an active metamorphmagi. Was it possible nobody knew?

Regardless, the most important thing was that Ron could see the bindings of fate around him. It spoke of heroes; glory; friendship. Why hadn't he bothered to look at Durst magically before? He wasn't sure, but he was sure as heck glad he'd looked now.

Strangely, there was no corruption on him from the likes of the other Slytherins, like he'd seen on almost an eighth of the older students. It was mostly Slytherins who carried it; a black ghost trailed them, hovering over them menacingly. Draco had one, for example, although it had been quieter lately.

"What didja want?" Ron asked amicably. Ari blinked incredulously then shrugged.

"Wanted you to hear me out about a few things. Mostly Harry and Draco." Hopping up onto a seat next to Ron, he said, "take your pick of where I start."

"Draco," Ron decided. He wasn't totally ready to talk about Harry. "What about the git?"

"He hasn't been such a git this year," Ari defended immediately. Ron couldn't deny that. He'd been practically tame, following Durst around like a lost puppy. "Ugh. Right. I wanted to tell you a bit about… how kids of Death Eaters are treated."

Ron paid rapt attention. This was one of those things his Mum had said to look out for; Death Eaters whose kids didn't want to fight.

"You see," Ari explained quickly, "Death Eaters expect their kids to take the Dark Mark at fifteen. They have to impress their parents and the dark lord… he's always watching them." Ron gulped. "Some people actually believe it. And most of the kids are partially loyal to the dark lord from birth… the magic transfers partially to children."

Ron paused to think about that. Was Draco's ghost the presence of the dark mark's magic? That would be… that would be terrible. If he'd been born into that…

"Anyways," Ari hurried on, "Draco and I have been trying to find a way to counter it. He gets discouraged really easily… I just wanted you to reconsider insulting him. He's really nervous. He just wants to protect his family."

"But they're death eaters." Ron protested.

Ari studied him carefully, dull green eyes flashing as he looked Ron over. "You're lucky," he murmured. "You've got a family, you've got trustworthy friends. Draco's never had that, not until Blaise and I. He was on his own. All he had was his Mum and his Dad. Why would he sacrifice that? Why would he give up his life based on one little test of morality?"

"I never thought of it like that," Ron murmured. Now he just felt guilty. "So you want me to stop jabbing Draco's overblown ego so he's happy enough to read books?"

Ari smirked. "Sure. That's one way to put it, even if the ego is an act. Want to hear about Harry now?"

Ron nodded eagerly. He leaned forward to watch Ari's expressions carefully.

"I'm… I'll admit, we're distant family." he shrugged. "Hermione probably told you that. I'm heir to Potter after him. I have a bit of authority over him because of that - access to his vaults, stuff like that."

"Why didn't you contact 'im then?" Ron growled. "Harry always wanted family!"

"Hey, I only found out last year, and I only managed to move to Britain this year! By the time I got here, he'd already fled!" Ari protested. "I've been managing his accounts for him - they were a real mess - and I've been dealing with any threats to his safety. That's why I left for Gringotts last weekend instead of Hogsmeade." Ron nodded slowly, tentatively placated.

Ari shrugged. "I've got some mundane detectives looking out for him, as well as a few magical ones. Dumbledore's got a tracker on him, so he's obviously okay if Dumbledore isn't breaking down the doors to the Department of Mysteries. Oh, that reminds me, don't trust Dumbledore."

Ron frowned. "Why? He's an amazing wizard!"

"He's wanted under goblin law!" Ari hissed. "Blind sheep! Don't you see? Isn't there something terribly wrong with the guy who leaves a one-year-old on a cold doorstep in October? Isn't there something wrong with the guy who tracks Harry as if he were the crown jewels, and yet leaves him to get beaten and battered by everything from Basilisks to mirrors? I'm not leaving Harry in the care of that mad thief!" Taking a deep breath, Ari continued, "I have people collecting dirt on him. Trust me, he's not someone you want to trust."

Ron considered that. "I'll think about it," he decided. "I need to make sure of something." If he asked Dumbledore about Harry, he could verify Durst's claims of his trustworthiness. "I need proof. Something Dumbledore will lie about that you tell me the truth about."

Ari nodded understandingly. "Sure. I'll figure something out." He paused. "What's Dumbledore told you?"

Ron eyed Ari up a bit. He focused once more on the magic around him. If Dumbledore was telling the truth to him, he'd have to tell Ari…

"You could ask Dumbledore-"

"No," Ari protested frantically. "I can't. If he saw me…" Ari took a deep, calming breath. "Ugh. Right. Total honesty it is. I'm a metamorphmagi."

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, I know. So what?"

Ari blinked at him. Once. Twice. "Oh. How many people know?"

"All the Weasleys. Luna Lovegood in second year, she's a powerful seer, so of course she can see idle magic… probably a few muggleborns who can't make sense of it, and I know none of the other purebloods know. You know how purebloods treat seers." Ron suddenly looked defensive. "You won't tell anyone about… me being able to see magic, will you?"

"Nah, sounds pretty awesome," Ari admitted. "I was raised as a muggle, so I have no idea how purebloods treat seers, but let me assume that it isn't kindly." He adjusted his seat next to Ron. "Anyways. Dumbledore has sensors in his office which would change my appearance to default the moment I walked in there. I can't do that." Shrugging, he continued, "I'll do what I can, but I don't want to jeopardize my position. It took me months to get into Hogwarts."

Ron amped up his sigh and began asking questions. "How old are you really?"

"Thirteen." A few golden sparks appeared in front of Ari in Ron's vision.

"Huh. What's your name?" Ron asked, genuinely curious.

Ari gulped. "... Phoenix." Gold, petering off into white. He wasn't giving Ron the full truth. "I can't say my last name safely." Gold again.

"Are you telling the truth about Draco Malfoy?" Ron didn't bother to hide his intentions. It would be Ari's reaction to his intentions that would seal how much he trusted him.

"Yes." Gold. Ron nodded, appeased.

Ron hit him with the big one now. "Where's Harry?"

"What? I don't know-" Black. Ron grabbed Ari's wrist before he could move.

"Where is he?" Ron growled. "Don't hide him from me. If you're hurting him-"

"He's fine," Ari soothed. Gold again. "I'm sorry I lied… what was I supposed to do? Now you'll want to see him." Also gold. He really was apologetic. Ron grumbled a bit, but retreated, eying the door in case Ari decided to turn tail like the Slytherin he was.

"I don't see why I shouldn't see him," Ron argued. "He's been fine before. We've been able to mail him over summer before. What's wrong with seeing him now?"

"Well," Ari hedged nervously. "I… need time. I want to keep his location secret. Not everyone is who they say they are." Gold. "I don't want him to get hurt just because someone wanted to say hi." Also gold.

Ron considered. "Prove to me he's alright, and I'll let it go and do what you asked." He glared at Ari. "Otherwise… watch out."

Ari nodded calmly. "Sure. I'll do what I can, Ronald." Internally, he groaned.

"It's Ron, just Ron," he explained pointedly as Ari walked to the door. Ari paused, smiled, and left silently, leaving Ron to consider the new facts presented to him.

* * *

Remus rubbed his headache as he headed for the teacher meeting, thinking about the prank that morning. If he'd been honest about it, he actually enjoyed the prank a lot - he was quietly hoping he could identify the pranksters and push them in the right direction.

Walking into the room set aside for these sorts of meetings, he nodded politely to his co-workers and slid into his seat, sighing gently as he waited for chatter to die down and Dumbledore to enter and begin the discussion for today.

Right on cue, the elderly wizard walked in, loud purple robes trailing behind him and eyes twinkling away. Pulling himself up a little, he listened as Dumbledore began his speech.

"I'm afraid I bring bad news," he mused unhappily, lowering himself slowly into a seat at the head of the table, capturing the attention of the professors easily. "I have been unable to locate Harry Potter. We must simply give up for now and trust that my trackers continue to prove his safety."

"Finally, we are past this," Snape huffed. "I told you we wouldn't find him if he didn't want to be found. Probably thinks this is hilarious."

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore soothed, "I doubt Harry would be so foolish as to hide from us. No, I expect he is a bit lost, but I am certain he is safe."

"'A bit lost'," Minerva repeated sharply. "Albus, I know you don't want to see it, but the child has outsmarted us at every turn! He isn't to be found anywhere!"

Remus nodded mutely along, eying Dumbledore as he reacted with practiced humility. He could smell the dishonesty rising from him, and his inner wolf growled loudly about the old man. Moony had never trusted Dumbledore, not even when Remus had reason to trust him, when he was simply a boy, a lucky werewolf who happened to attend Hogwarts.

Years had worn by slowly. Remus had lived a slow, boring life, jumping from muggle job to muggle job, frequently reminiscing about living in the magical world. The opportunity to teach was one he had jumped at eagerly, but his joy was muted quickly when it was discovered that Harry had disappeared altogether. Without even James's son to brighten his life, he was quickly becoming disillusioned with everything. He quickly returned his thoughts to Dumbledore to direct his feelings away from depression.

Dumbledore had lost his trust a long time ago, though exactly when he couldn't say. He just _knew_ now that there was something broken about Dumbledore, something cruel and twisted. He couldn't put his finger on what, but he'd find out eventually.

Clearing her throat, Sprout voiced, "I know we've got important things to think about, but shouldn't we discuss the matter of the Red Snake letters?"

Ah, yes, the Red Snake letters. A student had anonymously warned them to check students who bore a red snake upon their bodies. A few students had been noticed as having them, students of all houses, but it had been sidelined in order to take care of more important things, like finding Harry and organizing Hogsmeade weekends.

"I do not believe it is a matter we should worry over," Dumbledore vetoed. The smell of bad intentions was practically attacking Remus; he couldn't let this slide.

"Headmaster," Remus spoke up. "You don't mind if I just check these students quickly for anything dangerous, do you? Just some small spells to make sure."

Dumbledore sighed. "Remus, my boy, there's no need to worry. We're perfectly safe here."

"All the more reason I should check," Remus replied smartly. "If there's no need to worry, then why worry about checking student loyalties? What difference does it make to you that I do not check?"

Dumbledore looked ready to push down Remus's complains in his own smothering, grandfatherly way, but Minerva added, "I wish to do the same, Albus. We need a clear conscience if we are to focus fully on our work."

"Hear, hear!" Professor Flitwick agreed, his eyes shining with mirth. There was something that struck him about the shortest professor; either it was his heritage or the fact that Flitwick seemed to know more than anyone else.

"I would like this ridiculous business cleared out of the way, as well," Snape grudgingly admitted.

With the agreement of all the house heads, Dumbledore couldn't just pat them on the head and send them away. "Alright," he allowed remorsefully. "If only to get you all to relax."

* * *

That night, Harry walked into the room of requirement, thinking specifically of Sirius. As he'd hoped, he found Sirius lazing on a couch, but the moment he entered Sirius shot to his feet eagerly.

"Ari," he breathed, awkward and off-tilt. Looking closer, Harry could see an awareness shining in his eyes that had been absent before, a bit of consciousness that stopped him from looking, to put it bluntly, like a drunk.

Sirius was both everything he'd hoped for and more a child than he was. It was a bit distressing, but he figured that Sirius would be more of a friend than a guardian, even if he decided to take up that title at all. It was soothing, in a way, to be in control for once, to be on equal ground with the person who could one day make decisions for him, about him, and actually care what he wanted.

"Good evening," he greeted politely, easing into one of the cushioned chairs in the faux common room. "How have you been since I left?"

Sirius laid himself down fully along the couch, throwing his arms behind his head. "Sort of confused," he admitted. "The prank in the great hall was awesome. I want to find the kid who masterminded that."

"Oh?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"So I can talk to him about pranks," Sirius stated simply. "It was cool. James'd never do big-scale stuff like that - said we had to go subtle."

Harry nodded. "Makes sense. I just told Draco to go big as he could; the whole thing's a distraction."

Sirius shot up. "You know him? Can I meet him?"

Harry snorted, chuckled, and finally burst, laughing his lungs out. Wiping away a tear, he said, "This is Draco's first prank!"

Sirius gaped. "No way!"

"Yes way!" Harry took a few calming breaths, wiping away a stray tear. "This is hilarious. I can't wait to clear you; when he meets you he's going to flip!"

Sirius nodded eagerly along. "You're clearing me?"

"I've got a plan A and a plan B," Harry explained, finally regaining a straight face. "Plan A is the fun plan, which involves me walking into the great hall and straight-up asking for Peter Pettigrew. In the event that doesn't work, I'm going to sneak into the Gryffindor common room and ratnap him." He shrugged. "Not too hard - Ron's not very observant."

Sirius nodded. "Sounds fun," he admitted. "Can I join you?"

"Not until you're cleared," Harry replied solemnly. "I don't want to risk losing you to the codswallop legal system we're dealing with. I hate it, but we've got to play by their rules for now, and the rules state that if you're found, you'll be kissed on sight."

Sirius shuddered. "I _hate_ dementors."

"Me too," Harry agreed.

* * *

Draco rubbed his smarting eyes, glancing at the Wakefulness potion on his dresser in concern. He'd already drunk half the bottle. Could he really risk drinking more without any side-effects in the morning?

No, he'd just stay awake. Firmly telling himself that the book in his hands simply _had_ to have the miracle cure for the Dark Mark, he flipped the page.

Blank.

His remaining energy seemed to be drawn out of him, like someone had stabbed him in the gut and began draining him of everything he had. He'd never find a cure. It was all pointless.

His frustration expressed itself the moment he'd placed the priceless goblin text on the floor. Throwing his face into his pillows, he hissed in confusion, unhappiness, and general hopelessness. There was nothing left for him to do.

No, no, he had to stop thinking… stop thinking… just nothing. He had to think of nothing. He flipped over and listened to the sound of his breathing, letting his eyes fall shut.

Flashes before his eyes; his father cowering in front of Voldemort. His mother flung to the ground, forgotten. Him, signing himself away to the monster in his mind, the monster tearing apart his mental family like one would unwrap a Christmas present, his own life being the prize.

He threw himself upwards, the violent movement and lurch in his stomach distracting him from his wakeful nightmares. The grumble in his chest warned him that he had indeed taken too many wakefulness potions, and groaning, he left his bed silently, creeping away from his pointless friends, Crabbe and Goyle and Blaise.

Crabbe and Goyle were creepy and followed him around like little clay soldiers, which honestly scared the living daylights out of him half the time. Blaise was nice, but he was mostly networking; Draco didn't really feel close to anyone at Hogwarts… except maybe Ari.

Ari confused him. Appearing from nowhere (or France, depending on your sources), he suddenly had an ally. Most had avoided Draco like the plague, while after the first chance meeting, Ari had stuck with him, easily worming his way into Draco's life and becoming his support system. Ari had offered him much-needed distractions; new books, new friends, pranks and plans...

Now, the books were gone.

Sighing deeply, he tip-toed into the common room and ran headfirst into Ari.

"Ari?" He hissed into the darkness, observing the shimmer of the invisibility cloak and the edges of Ari's dark, wavy hair. A vague groan emanated from the darkness, and Ari's top half came into view, one arm massaging his forehead.

"Draco?" Draco took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and mumbled something halfheartedly in a feeble attempt to respond. "What are you doing awake? And why do you look like you want to throw up?"

Draco gulped, pushing down the burn in his throat. "Couldn't sleep."

Ari peered at him suspiciously. "You didn't overdose on wakefulness potions, did you?" Drat. Ari always seemed to know when he was ill.

Sighing, Ari grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him to his feet.

Using Ari's shoulder as support, Ari led him over to a couch and pushed him gently down, forcing him to sit. Too tired to oppose, he stayed where he was as Ari raced up to his room and returned with a bag filled with various potions - right, Ari had a bit of training in healer work, though why Draco couldn't fathom. Maybe he wanted to be a healer.

"Draco, drink this, it'll soothe your stomach," Ari told him softly. "You can pay me back later." It was always 'later' with Ari, Draco noted drowsily as he gulped down the disgusting potion. He never told other people 'later', always made sure he'd get what he'd earned. Why was it this way with him?

He still hadn't paid Ari back for the last time he'd gotten a favour. Or the time before. Or the time before…

"'M always owe…" Draco slurred, clearing his throat. "I still owe you for the last time this happened, Ari."

Ari waved it off. "Consider it nulled."

"You really are relaxed," Draco commented.

"Yeah," Ari admitted freely, leaning over the sofa leisurely and relaxing as they watched the fireplace crackle. Draco felt a quiet, gentle stab of jealousy; how nice it would be to be that relaxed, that happy.

Draco stared at the fire.

"You ran out of books, didn't you?"

 _Shit._

"No…"

Ari sighed, sending a hand through his messy mop of hair. "Draco."

"Yes," Draco hissed unhappily. "Fine. I ran out of books. I'm doomed. Happy?"

"No," Ari replied easily, sliding into the seat beside him. "I didn't realize how easily you gave up. Look - keep calm. You're not going to die. There are plenty of books out there, more than just the ones within Hogwarts walls."

"Hogwarts is the best publicly available library there is," Draco retorted. "Did your parents teach you nothing?"

"Yep." Ari shrugged, as if he hadn't just thrown off Draco's entire argument. "Something I should know about libraries?"

Draco growled, "Yes! Only the darkest of family libraries could dare to boast having books Hogwarts doesn't!"

This seemed to strike Ari down a bit. "Dark?" he repeated slowly. "How dark, exactly, are we talking?"

"Dark as the Blacks!" He hissed. "And _nobody_ is darker than the Blacks."

Ari nodded mutely. "Dark as the Blacks." he got up slowly, reaching out and lifting Draco up with him. "I get it. Don't worry. We'll figure it out."

Draco felt disconnected, as usual. Ari sometimes seemed to get this distant look, like he was thinking of somewhere where the grass was greener. His chest sank like a rock as he considered the idea that Ari felt as hopeless as he did.

* * *

A/N: Whew! Longer than usual! This is one of those chapters where I had to check it over multiple times... I'm glad it's over. I hope you enjoyed. Review, follow, etc etc. More pranks, more twins and more Ron Weasley on the way.

Until next time!

-MDH


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, the school had relaxed. Students, once more with their proper hair colour, laughed and chatted about the prank the previous day, easing into their customary seats as if they had not overturned those same benches yesterday to have a food-fight of the ages.

Draco, true to his word, had sworn off eating during the prank and was refusing to eat. Carla, Callum, the Carrow twins, and Blaise were all quietly trying to get him to eat, even just a little. They wanted him to succumb so he wouldn't be left out of the prank; despite his trauma, they didn't want anyone being suspicious of him.

"Come on, just one?" Carla begged, offering him the most tantalizing piece of chicken breast she could find.

"No," Draco said firmly, eying up the food longingly. "I'm not going to eat _anything._ "

Callum rolled his eyes. "Not even if it's a sugar quill mountain?" Draco seemed to be hedging on caving in, but the severe lack of an _actual_ sugar quill mountain helped him keep his resolve.

"Nope."

The Carrow Twins, ever observant, recalled his obsession with Harry Potter. "Didn't Potter like Treacle Tarts?" Hestia asked. Draco gave them a pointed look, rolled his eyes, and stared at his food.

"Isn't that him now?" Flora replied gamely. Of course, they intended to give him a serious case of made-you-look, but the situation quickly turned itself on its head.

As planned, Draco turned, and there he was - Harry Potter.

* * *

"What?" Draco spluttered, accurately voicing the thoughts of everyone in the Great Hall. "I thought he was in special training!" As he gaped, Harry turned over to look at him, waved, and walked to the Gryffindor table, sliding easily into the fold and ignoring Ron's gaping-fish look.

Hermione piped up first. "Harry, where have you been? We've been worried sick!"

Turning to her and raising an eyebrow, Harry replied, "I've been here the whole time, Hermione. What are you talking about?"

The confusion was punctuated by the clouds from the ceiling drifting out of the picture and collecting in the roof. People looked up in confusion, and Harry grinned.

"One treacle tart, please," he said, and immediately a treacle tart fell from the sky and into his hand. "Wait, I meant one thousand treacle tarts."

Harry was buried in treacle tarts.

An elongated silence, followed by over three hundred students requesting treacle tarts, cauldron cakes, and sugar quills.

"Oh," Harry yelled, "And one sugar quill mountain!" This, strangely enough, fell on Draco, who sputtered like a buffoon until sugar got to him. Then, finally losing all inhibitions, he grappled for his bookbag to fill it with quills.

"Please calm down," Dumbledore boomed, to no avail. Candy, it seemed, could distract any student. Harry gave him an odd look and shook off a few more treacle tarts.

"Oh - Fifty thousand Bertie Botts every flavour beans for Dumbledore!" Harry yelled. "Earwax flavour!"

Dumbledore did not even have time to blink before he was buried in odd yellow jellybeans, leading students to burst into laughter on their cauldron cakes and sugar quills.

A few minutes later, Harry got up and whistled at the ceiling. Hermione and Ron, who had ignored the food in favour of pestering Harry constantly, stopped talking and stared.

Mere seconds afterwards, a cloud floated down out of the roof and came to hover next to Harry, popping audibly as it automatically transfigured itself into a motorbike - a familiar, blue motorbike. "Oh, Ron?"

"Yeah?" Ron quirked his brow.

"Can I borrow your rat?" Ron gave him a look. "Please?"

Ron shrugged. "Alright. Don't kill him." He pulled Scabbers from his pocket and handed the shivering rat over easily. "He's been ill lately, so be careful."

"Of course." Harry slipped him into his cloak-pocket and mounted the bike. "Well, see you later." He shifted one of the gears, causing the motorbike to rise half a meter. "Oh - and tell Dumbledore that Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper." With that, he revved the engine and was off.

The moment Harry was gone, a flock of owls entered the great hall carrying red tubes. These were dropped as they flew past, and the first batch promptly exploded in mid-air, creating large puffs of colour and light.

The students looked up to watch the show, ignoring the fact that at that moment their DADA teacher was clamoring over a mountain of earwax jelly beans to follow. Remus Lupin finally gave up and conjured a skateboard, which he used to ride his way out of the great hall.

As the colours dissipated, the students began to return to their meals - but Draco felt a chill up his back and returned to watching the sky.

No less than eight Hogwarts owls flew through the windows of the great hall, struggling with what appeared to be a giant water balloon. A few students gulped, and others cast drying charms before anything had happened. The birds flew to the Slytherin table and hovered, as if waiting.

Another set of owls, and another balloon. Two more arrived after that, and they each hovered over a table.

Then, with a loud clap, the four balloons were released.

Each balloon exploded over the students, releasing a thick, white gas from them, and making a rather embarrassing fart-like sound which echoed off the walls. Students tried to wave away the white substance blocking their vision, but nothing happened.

When the air was finally clear, a few students yelled in surprise. Draco looked down at his own clothes - and screamed.

Somehow, everyone's outfits had been changed, as well as their ties. There seemed to be mostly golden animals embroidered on red ties - a strange, many-legged cat, a large golden bird, a serpent coiling around itself, and a vaguely humanoid creature. Some, however, had completely different ones; some were robed in large Durmstrang furs, yet others in weird little monklike outfits, and Luna Lovegood was wearing a sailor fuku.

Draco, himself, was wearing a Durmstrang fur, which he glared at. It was at least three sizes too big.

Dumbledore finally emerged from his earwax bean mountain, looking rather put out. "Why are you all wearing the Ilvermorny uniform?" He inquired, tugging on a few earwax beans embedded behind his half-moon lenses.

* * *

Classes that day were cancelled, and an impromptu Hogsmeade visit was organized to give the teachers a bit of a break. Draco signalled the others and walked calmly out of the hall, racing to a bathroom to replace the bulky furs with something more… maneuverable.

Leaving in his spare pair of Hogwarts robes, he adjusted his tie - still, annoyingly, charmed with an embroidered cat and Gryffindor colours - and joined the group outside the Gryffindor common room.

"These ties will be useful," Carla commented. "Nobody will suspect me as a Slytherin. Draco's the only one who will have trouble."

Draco sighed. "The downsides of fame. Which reminds me - who rigged up the Potter likeness? He was rather convincing, even if I didn't approve it."

"Oh, that was Ari," Carla replied easily. "He's a master of glamour charms." The others accepted this, and together the group of Slytherins marched up to the door and called, "Pugnator Fortem!"

The Fat Lady swung aside to let them in, and the five Slytherins entered quickly. They spread into three groups - Draco on his own, Carla and Callum pairing off, and the twins acting as if they were one.

"Carla, Callum, keep watch," Draco ordered, keeping his eyes on the doors. "Hestia, Flora, scout for when we have to return these. I'll head upstairs." The four others nodded in reply, and Draco cast a silencing charm on his feet, sneaking slowly up the steps to the boy's dorms.

He paused at the door to the third-year's dorms, pressing against the wall and peeking around the corner.

"You Slytherins, for all your talk, _suck_ at sneaking."

Draco jumped a mile into the air and whipped out his wand in seconds, pointing it at - Ronald Weasley.

"How kind of you to notice, Weasley," Draco drawled. "I have some duties to complete here. Please do leave before I have to hex you."

Ron, strangely, raised an eyebrow, and asked, "What duties?"

"Ari… requested I retrieve something. If you'll excuse me…" Draco turned, but Ron grabbed his shoulder and swung him around, glaring at him as if searching for something.

"What does Ari need that would be in the Gryffindor dorms?" Ron mused. "He only ever comes here to talk to Hermione." Letting go of Draco's shoulder, he continued, "and why would he want you to get it? Couldn't he just ask for it? People like him enough to give him anything he wants."

Draco huffed. "None of your business."

"Is too my business," Ron snapped. "Tell me what you're trying to get." He pointed his wand at Draco's throat. "Or I'll tell the entirety of Gryffindor you're sneaking around. We've got ways of marking people."

Draco was slightly surprised; he didn't think Weasleys were capable of blackmail. "I require secrecy," he replied smoothly. "I simply will not sacrifice Ari's position."

Ron glared more, but his wand fell to his side. "Fine then. I'll keep a secret." Draco raised na eyebrow; he didn't expect the Weasley to accept his terms.

"I was sent to recover something belonging to the twins," Draco replied honestly. "Ari wants a copy of a particular enchantment. It is called the Marauder's Map, and would be returned tomorrow, if all goes to plan."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Alright."

Draco seemed incredulous, but Ron ignored his surprise, instead marching up the stairs and returning with the desired item. "Bring it back tomorrow," he hissed, "or else my brothers will kill me. And don't you dare tell anyone I let you get away with this."

Draco nodded. "Of course. I suppose I'll be back tomorrow." With that, Draco quickly fled the scene, still in slight shock.

* * *

Ron watched Draco leave. That was, strangely, the most honest Draco had ever been. He was terribly confused, but he knew two facts; Ari Durst was Harry, and Harry needed Draco for something. So, for Harry, he would humour Draco's whims.

Seeing Harry at the feast was strange, but watching him with magic was stranger. There was nothing for it; Harry just _had_ to be Ari. Raking a hand through his hair, he went back downstairs to grab his Hogsmeade slip.

* * *

"This is the prisoner?"

"Yes, sir."

"Perfect. Finally, we've got enough proof for investigation…"

* * *

Draco sighed in relief when he caught sight of Ari's familiar mop of hair. He'd been hiding the Marauder's Map in his dorm, and was worried that the twins of terror would find out sooner rather than later.

Ari walked up to the bar of the Hog's Head and quickly ordered a Butterbeer. Grabbing his drink, he slid into a seat next to Draco and nursed his bubbling drink in silence for a few minutes, relaxing in the ambient sounds of the Hog's Head.

"Was it a success?" Ari inquired at last.

"Yeah," Draco confirmed. "Ronald Weasley found out, but I got him to keep quiet."

Ari raised an eyebrow, but did not ask further. "So. Did you enjoy the prank?"

"I'm just curious how you managed to fool Dumbledore with that Harry Potter clone," Draco admitted. "I was completely fooled."

Ari chuckled. "Who says he's fake?"

Draco blinked.

"You didn't."

Ari shrugged. "I studied with him over the summer."

"You went to that special training thing he's taking?" Draco gaped.

"Why did you think I went to Gringotts every weekend?" Ari replied cheekily. "More seriously - I didn't just translate books all the time, Draco. There's a small group of students getting tutored at Gringotts - I'm one of the few people outside of the goblin community they approved. I'm afraid I can't say more than that."

"Right," Draco nodded.

"Well," Ari rose. "Want to help with the potions? I'm going to copy over the MM."

"Sure," Draco agreed, rising himself.

* * *

Remus felt his inner werewolf scrabble at mental walls. If he didn't have a better grip on himself, he would be tearing this student to shreds.

It was well-known among the Order and the DMLE that all Death Eaters had some form of Dark Mark. Voldemort's inner circle had an intricate design on their forearm; other members had smaller, less intricate and less magical ones. He stared at the mark on the student's shoulder, which was being surrounded by the small, red, magical snake.

"You will follow me," Remus growled. "Any sudden moves, and your life is forfeit. Choose wisely." The boy gulped. He was a Gryffindor on his way back. This would devastate the lion house.

He dragged the youth all the way to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

McGonagall stood up as Remus walked in, tugging a student along by the elbow. Never had she seen him behave in such a violent way with anyone. This was serious.

"What is it, Lupin?" She demanded.

"This boy," Remus ripped off the sleeve, showing the black mark on the child's arm - A _death eater?!_ \- "is a junior Death Eater. Dumbledore refuses to have any action taken against him, even in the face of irrefutable proof. I swear to Merlin, if you deny the truth of his guilt, I will take him to Madame Bones herself!"

"Is he one of the Red Snake-?" She inquired.

"Yes," Remus growled.

"I will have the other teachers collect the marked students. We'll take them to the spare dungeons," McGonagall replied grimly.

* * *

Harry offered Sirius a bag of chips which was thoroughly inspected while Harry manipulated the magical camera he had set up. Moving it through Hogwarts, he quickly attached it to Flitwick, his partner-in-crime.

Including Flitwick had been a dubious, but ultimately good, decision. He was aware that Ari was the same as Phoenix Galldaxe, and had been informed of his plans for a third option. He was to help lead Ari to the dungeon where the marked students were kept. Flitwick was to drop a teleportation stone - keyword 'Three' - which would give Ari access to the students. From there, he could determine everyone's loyalties and debind those willing to take _his_ mark - proof of their refusal to follow the ways of either side - and he would have the first members of the Crow's Wing.

He had the potions he needed, courtesy of the goblins. All he had to do for now was park future members with some ink, and it would perform some basic duties. Prevent control via the Dark Mark; defend against basic jinxes and curses; prevent legilimency without eye contact… the list went on. It was an incredibly complicated - and eternally worth it - potion.

Flitwick dropped the rock and gave the signal - a short twist of his wrist - before leaving.

"Sirius, stay here," Harry requested. "I've got a mission to complete." Harry snatched up some veritaserum from a shelf, threw on a large, black cloak which covered him completely, and his portkey. He quickly altered his appearance into that of an unremarkable student. Taking a deep breath, he hissed, "Three."

The world swirled and snapped back into place. The Death Eaters leaped away, and a few even reached for wands that weren't there.

"Who's there?" One hissed. "Show yourself!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Scott's here, and no. I'm here to investigate. If you wish to evade Azkaban, then you will allow me to dose you with this." He held up the veritaserum.

The students glanced at each other, in silent conversation. Eventually, the same one replied, "Alright. One of us at a time. No sudden moves, or we attack."

"Of course." Harry shrugged. "Take your pick of who first."

She glanced around. "Alright. Him, two people to the right. We can't move beyond these bloody chains, so you'll have to step forward, 'Scott'." Harry nodded understandingly and walked calmly up to the student, who obediently took a drop of Veritaserum.

"Name?"

"Denver." he replied, gulping. This seemed to send shivers through the remainder of the death eaters; they'd obviously figured out it was Veritaserum.

"Year?"

"Sixth."

"Do you believe Voldemort's cause?" Harry inquired. The room fell silent.

"..no," he breathed fearfully.

"KNEW HE WAS A TRAITOR!" The original girl hissed. "GE-"

" _Silencio._ "

She glared at Harry relentlessly while he continued. "Why did you take the dark mark?"

"Dad would have killed me if I didn't, and Dumbledore would have tried something." he hissed. "Why are you asking these questions?"

"You'll know eventually." Harry replied. "Next."

He gathered confessions. Most, unfortunately, were loyal to Ol' Voldy; there were around four, however, who weren't. He whispered his question into their ears to defend them from any repercussions they might face from the others; every one said yes, and was marked by the potion.

"I'll be back for you four," he announced. "To the rest of you - I can only hope you'll survive." With that, he left. It would take at least three days for the DMLE to respond, considering Dumbledore's attempts to defend against it, so he had time.

* * *

Draco took the Marauder's Map into his hands. "I'll get it back where it belongs," he promised, placing it gently in his cloak pocket. Ari gave him a bright smile and nodded.

"Everything's nearly ready," Ari breathed. "I just need one more spell."

"You never actually told me what you plan to do with that map," Draco commented. "Am I allowed to know?"

He sighed. "I've been meaning to ask about that… but no, I'll ask when I've got everyone together."

"Everyone?" Draco inquired.

"You, Callum, Carla and the twins," Ari replied. "I have a… suggestion to make. It's a big undertaking. I'll do it on my own if you refuse, but… it would mean a lot to me."

He returned to the map he was still editing. He was only taking magic from it at the moment, but Draco anticipated that he would add to it soon.

"You could ask us now," he suggested hopefully. "I can get everyone together."

Ari nodded slowly. "I guess… you're right. I have nothing to lose by doing it here and now." He rose from his chair. "Lead everyone to my dorm room. I'll wait there."

"Right," Draco nodded, wondering silently what he was agreeing to.

* * *

A/N: I have risen from the dead!

My god, I'm sorry there's been no updates. School got ahead of me, and if you've seen A Collection, you'll know I've been writing tons of other things too. It's rather frustrating trying to keep everything up to date.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter - next one is being written during the week.

A few sidenotes;

I have a personal hatred for Ronald Weasley. I try my best, but I frequently write bad Weasley family (outside of the twins) due to this. I wish I could love him more, but he's a living contradiction - he's willing to sacrifice himself for Harry, and simultaneously finds it easy to turn his back time and time again. Indecisive characters like that frustrate me a lot, and Ron is a perfect example.

So, in an effort to write a Ron that people can enjoy in this story, he is very different. His behaviours and abilities will be mapped out as the story continues, but he will inevitably have some OOC moments or unexplained motives. If this happens, please forgive me - but I believe a lovable Ron is more important than a correct one.

Another thing I've got to put out there - I've been toying with an idea. I never went into express detail about what Harry did over the summer with the goblins. I've been writing a sort of 'example' so people can get perspective, but I'm not sure how to post it. We _will_ be visiting Gringotts later to see just what's going on behind the scenes, but some details will inevitably slip through the cracks. So - should I post a side-story showing what Harry did during that time? Or should I wait until the chapter where they visit?

Well, that's all for now. As always - tell me what you think, hope you enjoyed! Til next time!


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